The Demter Guardian
by Marj123
Summary: Sequel to Sacrifice for the Side of Light. Summary: This is Harry Potter, and muggle, squib or wizard, he WILL defend himself. Rated M for mature readers. References to sex, rape and abuse of muggles.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary__: This is Harry Potter, and Muggle, Squib or Wizard, he __will__ defend himself. 2__nd__ in the Sacrifice series. _

_Disclaimers__: __Harry Potter and his world is owned by J. K. Rowling. Some ideas have been borrowed from other fanfiction writers, such as that the Potters were a wealthy Pure-blood family, and the detail of 'Freak' cut into the child's chest. This story is the second in the Sacrifice Series, after 'Sacrifice for the Side of Light.' The series diverges from Canon a few days after the Triwizard Tournament, when the original Prophecy was made public. _

_If you have you not read Sacrifice for the Side of Light, you will find it helpful to read the brief Prologue:_

_**Prologue:**_

A Prophecy was made.

_Victory for the Side of Light…. Victory before the leaves fall…. A Sacrifice…. This victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh…. When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released…. His anger is the key… The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order the vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light…. Shame! The innocent child lost and broken… The Child of Light lost and broken…_

The lure of a quick and easy victory led Albus Dumbledore to hand Harry Potter over to Lord Voldemort for the Rite of Cerlikh. It happened exactly as prophesied, but after the power displayed, he was perceived as dangerous, so Dumbledore modified Binding Bracelets to destroy his magic. When Dumbledore died suddenly, Severus Snape replaced him as 'Demter Guardian,' and resolved to carry out the responsibility as a Demter Guardian should. Attempts were made to remove the Binding Bracelets, but failed.

After an attack by other students, Harry managed to break the magic of the Binding Bracelets, and escape, leaving evidence of bloodstained clothing close to the Acrmomantula colony. The wizarding world assumed him to be dead. Only Severus Snape, and Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, knew that he was living as a Muggle, at Kreighley Beach Home for Boys.

****

_**Chapter 1:**_

Harry stretched and smiled as he woke. His room-mate was already up, and he turned to him, raised himself on his elbow, and said, "Congratulate me, Chris. I'm seventeen today."

Chris scratched his head, "You're fifteen, Ricky, and your birthday's in October."

"I lied slightly when I came. I reckon Davies knows it's not my real name."

"So what is it then?"

Harry grinned, and shook his head, "I far prefer Ricky Drayton."

Chris said dryly, "Only that the boss screw assumes you were a boy prostitute."

"He can assume what he likes."

Harry casually dropped his sleeping shorts to the floor, and walked naked to the showers. He was lean, fit and strong, and far bigger than he'd been when he arrived. He still didn't look as old as his true age. The semi-starvation he'd suffered when he was small had left its effects. He still wore the Binding Bracelets, looking like black leather, and marked with bright silver runes. If any Muggle ever noticed them, they'd be assumed to be decorations, Gothic style, maybe. Except for renewing the Cloaking Magic now and then, deliberately geared only for Muggles, Harry ignored them. If a wizard saw and identified him, they would see the Bracelets, and not worry that he could be dangerous. To the wizarding world, he would be a Muggle. Chris called after him, "So can I tell anyone?"

"No way!"

Later that day, four boys, including Harry and Chris, played in the surf. They were rough, shouting, splashing each other, ducking each other. Two girls lay on the beach, and one peeled her top down. The other looked at her a little shocked, especially as she was lying on her back. Amanda said airily, "I prefer an all-over tan."

Rose said, "Well, I hope you're not planning on taking the pants off!"

Amanda grinned, "Maybe."

Rose sat up, "Mandy, they're _Kreighley_ boys! You don't know what they're capable of!"

"I want Ricky. I think he's cute."

"What about Lynette?"

"She's left town, no longer relevant."

Soon after, the boys emerged from the cold water, and joined the girls. Harry looked at Amanda, still lying on her back, and said, "You'll have sunburnt nipples."

She mock punched at him, "Here I was trying to seduce you, and all you can say is that I'll be sunburnt!"

He leaned over, kissed her on the lips, and said, "Consider me seduced. Meantime, cover yourself or you'll be too sore to be touched." Amanda smiled smugly, "Good point." She turned herself over, and he stroked the tanned back. He liked Amanda, liked Rose, liked all girls really. But when he joined her later, in privacy, he worked the anti-conception spell that would last a year. He didn't want any accidents. There was no wand used, nor an incantation. He didn't need them. Even before Voldemort had attempted the Rite of Cerlikh, Harry had been a powerful wizard. In the upsurge of anger that came as Harry felt Voldemort taking his power from him, the reverse happened. Harry took Voldemort's power for himself. Not only his power, but his knowledge of magic, his knowledge of the magical world, even his personal memories, most of which he preferred not to examine. If the wizarding world knew, he suspected they wouldn't rest until he was seen to be as dead as Voldemort and Dumbledore.

Later that day, Harry received a message to report to Ross Davies, the 'Boss.' Ross surveyed the boy, looking happy and healthy, unworried by the summons, though any other of the boys would be frantically raking through their memories, wondering what they'd done wrong. He said seriously, "Ricky, I needed to see you."

"Yes, Sir?"

Ross drummed his fingers on the desk, and looked out the window. Harry was beginning to worry, "Is something wrong, Sir?"

"We've had a gift of four of the latest computers, said to be for the senior boys."

Harry grinned, "I was saying we needed computers."

"Maybe we do. It's part of your education."

"Well, Sir?"

"It was a donation from the so-called 'Tom Foundation.' I've never been able to find out who's behind it, but it only started taking an interest in us around eighteen months ago."

"Good on them."

Ross turned to him, frankly, "Do you know anything about it, Ricky?"

"No, Sir."

Ross studied him, quite sure he was lying. He changed the subject, "Your exam results were good."

"I told you I could cope, Sir." He'd been accelerated to the Lower Sixth the previous February, and was now with his true age-mates. It had been easier to pick up the unfamiliar subjects than he'd expected.

"So, Upper Sixth this coming year, and then what?"

"I want to do a Bachelor of Arts, Sir. Maybe at Oxford."

Ross frankly laughed, "How? We can afford to have our boys complete High School, but unless you earn a Scholarship…"

"Maybe I will. My marks are good. If not, I could maybe get part-time work."

Ross studied the mystery boy, and hoped he wasn't selling himself. He changed the subject, "Young Badham has settled down now. It looked like he'd be a real problem."

"He's OK. He's started to look after Lionel a bit."

"You had a fight with him."

"You heard about that Sir?"

"There's not much I don't hear about. You're a leader, Ricky. If we had prefects here, I'd make you a prefect."

"I wouldn't want to be a prefect, Sir."

"You do realise that one day you'll have to give me your real name. Without identity documents, you can't get a job, or travel overseas, or access social security."

"I have my reasons, Sir. But I'll give it some thought."

"You do that."

Harry said seriously, "I am very grateful to you, Sir. You gave me a home, and tried to keep me safe."

"Those months when you vanished again. Surely you trust me enough to tell me where you were."

Harry looked at the floor, and then back to Ross. "I trust you as much as I trust anyone. I will not tell you where I was, except that I did not go voluntarily."

Ross looked at him a long time, and finally said, "Very well, Ricky. You may go."

"Thank you, Sir."

Harry's tone was quiet and respectful. Ross reflected that Ricky had always been respectful. He wore his hair very long, but that was the only sign of any sort of rebellion. He'd never made an issue of it, and had never had the slightest trouble from him, though many of the boys at the home had been in trouble for various minor crimes. Frank criminals and drug addicts were mostly sent to more secure institutions, but he had boys who had come from violent or criminal homes, and some who'd been streetkids, living by begging, thievery or prostitution. Ian Badham had been a borderline case, as his crime had been violent, but he was only just sixteen, and had been sent to the Home rather than a secure institution. Ross thought that Ricky was a factor in the improvement in his behaviour.

Ricky had first arrived almost two years before, after being found staggering down a road, naked and exhausted, his bare feet cut about from walking too far. There had been injuries from rape. He'd vanished again even before his feet were fully healed. Ten weeks later, he'd returned, knocking at his door in the early hours of the morning, a tattered T-shirt his only garment, worn as a loin cloth. Again, he'd refused to say what had happened to him. He'd been very thin, white with fatigue and cold, his face tired and haggard. Yet he said that he thought he was safe now, that he thought that 'They' didn't want him any more. Ross's favourite theory was that he'd been wanted for sex, but had refused to cooperate with his clients, until the mysterious 'They' had given up on him, and thrown him out.

It was a likely theory. He'd been a very attractive boy at thirteen, if that had indeed been his age. Sometimes he seemed much older, yet not long after his return, there had been an excursion to a funfair. He'd shown the uninhibited excitement of a much younger child, and divulged that he'd never been to anything like that in his life. He'd never even seen the sea until he'd come to Kreighley! Ross had found himself scheduling more excursions than usual, simply to see Ricky's child-like pleasure, and then the mysterious 'Tom Foundation' had sent the first donation, a large amount with the instruction that the boys be provided with neat, good quality clothing.

Severus Snape was also thinking about Harry that day. He was now of age. There should have been celebrations. He should have been taking possession of his inheritance. He grinned wryly to himself. If things hadn't changed so dramatically, he might have been being urged to join Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, formed to fight Voldemort.

Yet, each time he watched him, the boy seemed content. He played soccer and other sports, he had girlfriends, and he was doing well at school. Snape kept track. Regularly, he showed himself to him. If Harry wanted, all he had to do was go to him. So far, he hadn't gone to him, not since Snape had delivered the photograph album that Harry had requested. It had been a surprise to find the false passport and a Gringotts 'Visa Card' tucked away in it. It implied that the boy had been seriously considering striking out for himself when he was just thirteen. If he had, Voldemort would still have been alive. On the other hand, Harry Potter would have still had his magic.

Snape couldn't quite understand that the boy wasn't miserable. Without magic… It would be like being crippled! But Harry had been raised in a Muggle household, so maybe, to him, it didn't seem so bad. Harry Potter should have been a great wizard, - he was the one who'd defeated the Dark Lord. But even if he'd not lost his magic, the manner of the defeat was a problem. For a wizard to be raped was a disgrace that could never be lived down.

Even now, Severus Snape considered the result worth the sacrifice of one youth. The Dark Lord dead, a war cut short scarcely before it had started, and over three hundred Death Eaters dead, presumably as a consequence of their connection to Voldemort through the Dark Mark. Snape himself had been knocked unconscious for three days, but had made a full recovery. Some had been permanently brain damaged.

The next time that Snape showed himself to Harry, Harry said something to his girlfriend, and crossed to him. Snape asked, "Nice girl?"

Harry said casually, "Mandy. Lots of local girls think that Kreighley boys might be a bit dangerous, and therefore, somehow desirable."

Snape shook his head, "Girls are always foolish."

"You told me there was an inheritance to collect. Will you please help me go to Gringotts?"

"You'll be recognised."

"I'll wear Muggle dress, jeans and a T-shirt. Short sleeves, you see, to show the Binding Bracelets. I do not expect that anyone will approach."

"A guilty conscience, do you think?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe."

Snape nodded slightly, "You were badly treated."

"It is history. I want to see this house of my ancestors, and it's time they saw that I am still alive, but insignificant."

"You're not afraid that someone will think that you should return?"

"I very much hope that that will not happen."

"I will speak to Vance McKenzie. He's still Chief Auror."

"There's a wizard who checks on me now and then. I don't know who it is."

"It's probably McKenzie. He thought it was me who helped you."

"The one who helped me , - he was frightened of repercussions. He told me I'd probably never see him again."

"So who was it?"

Harry shrugged, "Someone who heard just how I was treated."

"You won't tell me?"

"No, Sir."

Snape asked, "Do you remember me telling you that a Demter Guardian is supposed to look after his ward as best he can?"

"I remember very well."

"You are grown-up now, but as long as you cannot access your magic, you will need me at times."

"Are you willing?"

"I am." He spoke in exactly that tone of commitment as he had that very first time he'd told Harry what a Demter Guardian was, - a guardian for Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children, to help them in the magical world where needed. Dumbledore had been Harry's Demter Guardian while he was alive, though he hadn't known it.

Harry said casually, "The scar on my forehead has faded to almost invisible."

"So has my Dark Mark, the same as the other surviving Death Eaters."

"How many survived? Would they be after me?"

"It is thought that most of the ones who survived were either very young ones, or a few who would have preferred that they were never Marked. Not as committed, and they were somehow spared, as I was."

Harry nodded, and Snape suddenly asked, "Did you try to kill Death Eaters?"

"I scarcely remember what happened. And afterward, I was never told much, never allowed to read the newspapers, and then I left, and only know what you tell me."

"Neither you nor Voldemort are spoken of, as if the subject is taboo."

"Forgotten?"

"Not forgotten, no."

"About Gringotts. It would really be better to go after school goes back, but I suppose you won't be able to take me then."

"I could speak to the Headmistress, if you wish."

"Still Professor McGonagall?"

"Her placement was confirmed a few days after you were rescued."

Harry asked curiously, "Has she made any changes?"

"Hogwarts is weighted down by tradition, but Filch has retired and been replaced, and so has Professor Binns."

"About time. He took a fascinating subject, and used it to send people to sleep. Quite an accomplishment when you think of it."

"You like History?"

"Very much. It's my favourite subject."

"If she approves, how about the second week after school goes back? Would that suit you?"

"That would suit."

"May I tell people you're alive?"

"I guess you might as well. No general announcement or anything. It might be better if the knowledge just gradually percolates.

****

To Snape's surprise, when he told the Headmistress that Harry Potter was alive, she hugged him, and declared that she'd never believed him dead. Snape regarded her with a wry smile. It was the first he'd heard of that, but McGonagall said, "I thought if he'd managed to escape, we should leave him in peace."

Snape nodded, "Someone helped him, he says, but he has no intention of telling us who."

"His magic?"

"Gone."

McGonagall sighed, "Crippled, poor boy! I'd somehow hoped…" Snape merely looked saturnine.

McGonagall marvelled for a bit longer, before turning a shrewd look on Snape, and asking why he told her now. Snape replied, "He doesn't want people to know where he is, but he's seventeen now, and he needs me to help him access Gringotts in order to claim his inheritance. There's the family home, I don't know what else. I don't expect he knows even where his parents are buried."

McGonagall said vaguely, "The main London cemetery, I think. I would have thought that _someone_ would have shown him."

"Who? He didn't have anybody."

"Sirius, no…" She shook her head, "He always seemed so self-sufficient. He should have asked for help."

"I always assumed he was arrogant. I think now it was just that he had no expectation that an adult would help him. Albus was his Demter Guardian, and never lifted a finger in that role."

"He did arrange for him to have a home with his relatives."

"Who beat him, half-starved him, even whipped him!"

McGonagall shook her head, "They couldn't have been that bad. Albus would not have allowed it."

"He reined them in a bit when the child complained to a policeman. He told me he healed the scars at that time, but there's a spell that shows scars healed by magic. Healer Braithwaite made the spell. Those ghost scars are conclusive proof that the child was treated appallingly."

Professor McGonagall said briskly, "Well, that's all in the past. I suppose you want some time off."

"Yes please, Minerva."

"Tell people?"

"He says maybe best to let the information spread gradually. I agree."

"I doubt if he's in any danger now. Just a poor crippled kid whom no-one will care about."

"Yes."

There was no announcement of Harry's survival, not even to the other teachers.

There had been a few developments among the Hogwarts students. Neville finally had a wand that suited him, and with the increased power and confidence, his reputation as a duffer was being forgotten. He was dating a fourth year Ravenclaw. Hermione and Ron had little to do with each other any more. Ron hadn't wanted to return for seventh year, but had been too daunted by his mother to ever actually say so. He was dating Lavender Brown. Hermione spent a lot of time with the Ravenclaws, and kept up a correspondence with Vayden Carlyle, who'd left the previous year. The Carlyle family was wealthy and influential, almost as much as the Malfoys had once been. She had thoughts of marrying him, but it was not likely to happen. Hermione carried the taint of Muggle.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.__Terms used__: Anirage is another name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the ancient language._

_**_

_**Chapter 2:**_

Snape waited for Harry at the agreed place two weeks into the school term. It was just two years since he'd helped prepare the boy for Voldemort. Harry arrived, looking like a typical Muggle teenager. His glasses had inconspicuous frames, he wore a new black T-shirt, with a colourful design, and jeans. His long hair was tied back with a leather thong. Around his neck was a narrow leather plaited cord, with a stylised silver hawk as a pendant. The Binding Bracelets were impossible to miss, and yet looked fitting, part of his outfit.

Snape nodded his approval, and said, "I have your key, though they do have procedures to verify identity without it. They're expecting you."

"They must know I'm alive."

"I've seen your bank statements. How long have you had your Gringotts card?"

"I spent a couple of weeks at the Leaky Cauldron when I was thirteen. I organised it then. There had been a bit of an accident with a relative."

"You blew up your Aunt, in fact."

"Sort of, yeah. Not that she didn't deserve it, but I reckoned Uncle Vernon might kill me if I went back, whatever Dumbledore said."

"Yet you went back the next year?"

"He said that if I didn't, I would not be allowed back at Hogwarts, and then I would lose my wand. When the original prophecy was made public, I nearly left anyway."

"That would have messed up his plans!"

Harry grinned cheerfully, "Wouldn't it though?"

Snape held out an arm, "We're going to apparate. I wrap my arm about you, and we arrive in the App. Zone in Diagon Alley."

Harry looked at him dubiously, "Is it dangerous?"

"If a wizard does not cooperate, it would be dangerous. Prisoners are always stunned before an Auror takes them anywhere."

"If I were still a wizard, would I have to do anything special?"

"Just don't think about destinations or apparating. But don't worry. There is no possibility that you might manage to influence our destination."

Harry stepped toward him, Snape wrapped his arm around him, and they were in Diagon Alley. Harry looked around, and laughed, "It's easy!"

"Infinitely better than Floo travel."

Harry had apparated routinely for some time, but had no intention of telling Snape that.

They were looked at curiously as they walked towards Gringotts, Snape in his usual black, cape swirling, looking every inch the powerful wizard, and the Muggle boy with him. A goodlooking boy, and at least one of the passing wizards assumed that it was a sexual relationship. Snape's shady past was very well known, and the boy was obviously Muggle. An acquaintance greeted him, and Snape had a few words. He didn't refer to the boy, and it was only after they were past, that Vanden stopped in his tracks and turned to stare after them.

Two patrolling Aurors stopped dead, and Sue Vanstone took a step towards them. Tonks pulled her back, "Best get instructions."

Sue said, "He can't hurt anyone."

"You watched him for a while, didn't you?"

"For a couple of weeks. I was very sorry for him, even if he was rude and sulky."

Tonks said tolerantly, "It was understandable."

"You didn't have to put up with him!"

"Report in?"

Vance McKenzie listened to the report, and said, "Leave him alone, but keep an eye on him. A _protective_ eye. He's helpless among wizards now."

"He's still wearing the Bracelets."

"We couldn't take them off, remember? By then, it wouldn't have made a difference. Whether or not it was intended, Dumbledore turned him into a Squib."

There was overstaffing in the Auror Department since their biggest threat had been removed, little to do but gossip, and read through old files. Word quickly spread, and Kingsley Shacklebolt asked Tonks, "How did he look?"

"Healthy. Not frightened, though he should have been, I think."

"I might go and have a look, maybe say hello."

There were others with the same idea, but by that time, Harry and Snape were in an office, being introduced to Gr. Vlasna, who'd managed the Potter wealth for many years. Businesslike, he ran through a list of Harry's assets, chief of which was the Potter Manor, complete with over a thousand acres.

Harry asked Snape, "Can we go there?"

"Shortly."

The Goblin said, "The place is empty, and hidden from wizards. I will take you. Once you claim possession as the rightful heir, Mr. Potter, it will no longer be hidden from you, though Mr. Snape will forget its vicinity unless the spells are modified. All other properties are rented out, including three homes left by your mother's family. I took over management of those properties on behalf of your mother, shortly after her marriage."

"Just how low long have you looked after the Potter money, Gr. Vlasna?"

"I was appointed by Gerion Potter."

"Gerion Potter?"

"Your grandfather, Mr. Potter."

"Oh." He looked down at the list of properties and addresses, and remarked, "This one's in France."

"Two in France, three in the United States, one even in Australia."

"There's so much!"

Snape said, "The Potters were a large family once. You are the sole heir. Maybe it's because they were like you, with a tendency to run headlong into danger."

Harry said wryly, "Or be tossed into danger whether I agreed or not!"

"That too."

Another hour with Vlasna. Harry listened attentively, accepted when Snape suggested that paperwork continue going to him, but declined when he was asked whether he wished to authorise Snape to act for him. There was a communication line arranged. Harry would no longer need to set foot in Diagon Alley in order to communicate with his Goblin Manager.

Word had spread that Harry Potter was in Diagon Alley, and when they emerged from the bank, there was a small group waiting for him, including Rita Skeeter, reporter. But Snape wrapped an arm around him, and they apparated away, even before any questions could be thrown at them. A photographer managed to take a picture.

Vlasna didn't stay long after ensuring that Snape and Harry were able to enter the Potter home, and then Snape watched Harry as he wandered around, touching things now and then. Two resident house-elves anxiously showed themselves, and he thanked them for keeping the home so clean, and added, "I think I remember it a little."

Snape said, "Impossible! You were less than a year old when your parents went into hiding."

"They should have stayed here. It seems very safe."

"They left after your grandparents were killed."

"Were they killed here?"

"Killed very publicly in Diagon Alley, not by the Dark Lord, for something else. They very much displeased one of the oldest Pure-blood families."

Harry turned to him, "Who?"

"A Bulstrode. I forget his first name, father or grandfather of Victor. He died in Azkaban, convicted of the murders, and convicted of the crime of keeping Muggle slaves."

"I didn't know any of this."

"Did no-one tell you anything of your history?"

"Hardly anything. I sometimes wondered if it was deliberate, that maybe Dumbledore wanted me to think little of myself, in order to have me a more willing soldier for him."

Snape nodded. Dumbledore had even said something of the sort to him once. Not just that the child had been left with Muggle relatives who loathed him, but how he himself had been encouraged to think of Potter as just like his bullying father. The headmaster had never made a murmur of objection, even when he was quite unfair to the boy. He said casually, "I'll write out as many facts as I can think of for you."

Harry smiled, "That would be great, but even if you don't find the time, I'll probably find some information here. A pity none of the portraits are still talking."

"It needs a highly charged magical atmosphere to keep portraits moving for more than a few years."

"I never liked the ones at Hogwarts much. I always reckoned they were spies for Dumbledore."

They went outside. The house-elves watched, smiling broadly. It might not be straightaway, but one day, their Family would live here again.

The pair inspected a neglected orchard. Snape looked at his watch, and Harry said quickly, "I'm sorry. I'm taking up too much of your time."

Snape gave his thin smile, "I'm enjoying watching you discover what you should have grown up with."

"You are?" He looked at him distrustfully, "Dumbledore used to say that he loved me like a grandson."

Snape actually laughed, "Rest assured, I do not love you. I merely like to see justice."

Harry had his head cocked to the side, studying him. Snape said, "Yes?"

Harry replied frankly, "I can't work you out."

"Do you need to? As long as I'm on your side?"

"I guess I don't need to." He glanced around, "Back to the house?"

Snape was settled with a cup of coffee and a cake while Harry absented himself. He came back after a while, holding a toy horse. "He was called Tiggy. I remember Tiggy. We left him behind."

"I suppose it's not impossible that you remember something."

Harry smiled at him, "Take me home now?"

"Kreighley is home?"

"The best home I've ever had."

"Do you ever think of Weasley and Granger?"

Harry said flatly, "No."

"Neville Longbottom? Charlie Greaves?"

"Neville did his best. Did Charlie go into Auror Training?"

"They're overstaffed. There's been no intake of trainees since your little temper tantrum."

Harry gave an incredulous laugh, "A temper tantrum!"

Snape smiled at him, "A very effective temper tantrum."

Harry grinned, "It was, wasn't it?"

"I ask again, how much did you intend?"

"It's hard to say. I wasn't thinking. Certainly though, I did kill Voldemort, and then those others were a threat so I guess I killed them as well."

"Those were the ones you could see."

"I only thought about the ones I could see. I don't think I was directly responsible for those further away."

"But you might have been. The Dementors as well, maybe."

"What about the Dementors?"

"Only that there have been none seen since. It's not known for sure, and why they would have vanished, no-one knows. They were not Voldemort's creations."

"We were taught that they evolved alongside Anirage, as parasites."

"It is the most prevalent theory."

Harry shook his head, "I never had the power to do away with Dementors."

"No, but even killing the wizards in the room with you…"

Snape spoke thoughtfully, and Harry said defensively, "Well, it's not like I can kill anyone now. Or not unless I get myself a gun or something."

Snape felt himself reassured. It was a terrifying thought that anyone could have that sort of power.

Harry was rebuking himself. He should not have admitted anything. Only that he'd wanted to give Snape something in return for giving him so much help. Without Snape's cover, he could not have kept up the pretence that he was an insignificant Muggle.

Snape asked, in a matter-of-fact voice, "Do you want me to modify the spells so that I can bring you back when you want?"

"What would I need to do?"

"A drop of blood of mine and yours."

Harry grimaced, "Maybe another time."

"May I buy lunch for you then?"

"I would like that."

Snape continued to probe, but Harry was cautious, and he didn't discover anything else. Snape reflected that Harry Potter would probably never trust a wizard again, and was probably right not to do so. He might have pretended to be squeamish about the drop of blood required, but Snape didn't believe it for a moment. He'd been far worse injured, and it's not that he'd be worried about the uses to which blood could be put. Blood Magic wasn't taught at Hogwarts. In any case, his education had effectively ceased a few weeks into fifth year.

Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, reported to Minister Fudge. He would have preferred that the Ministry not know that Harry was alive, but as he'd been seen in Diagon Alley, it would not be possible to keep it a secret. Fudge was, at first, frankly alarmed, convinced that Potter would be seeking revenge.

McKenzie pointed out, "He has no magic. He needs a wizard to access a wizard area. Even if his magic was not totally destroyed, it would still be Bound. The Binding Bracelets were never removed."

"He still wears the Binding Bracelets?"

"That is correct. He was dressed as a Muggle, accompanied by his Demter Guardian, Severus Snape."

Fudge complained fretfully, "Why does he have to bother us?"

"He only went to the bank. He's seventeen now, and his parents left him their estate. He's still entitled to that, Muggle or not."

"I suppose."

Fudge was looking down, scribbling something on his pad. McKenzie stood, "He is no threat, and in my opinion, there is no need for any action."

"I disagree. Ascertain where he is living, and mount a 24hour surveillance. Discreetly. He should not know he is being observed."

"Yes, Minister. For how long?"

"A detailed report in a week. If there is a hint that he's using magic, tell me straightaway."

"Yes, Minister."

****

Chris was a little cool to Harry when he returned that afternoon, and asked, "Is it selling drugs for someone, or simple thievery?"

Harry handed him a box, "I have a friend I see sometimes, but my money's my own."

"What's this then?"

"Computer games. Want to try one?"

Chris grinned, "Yeah!"

It was only after two hours of trying to destroy 'Aliens' that Chris said enviously, "I wish _I_ had some bloody money. Lionel always has money!"

"Clark still likes him?"

"Apparently. I was thinking I should do it too. Mr. Clark has a friend, Lionel says."

"I can't stop you. Just remember you can be hurt, maybe not only your body."

"How long did it take you to heal then, Ricky?"

"Who says I'm healed?"

It had been a careless throwaway line, but Harry thought about it more seriously that night. He was long healed from the rape. He didn't feel shamed, and decided that killing the rapist was an excellent remedy for that particular hurt. The rest of it, though…. Dumbledore, who'd been his Demter Guardian. A Demter Guardian was supposed to act in the best interests of the child, not hand him over to his worst enemy. The others were worse. Sirius Black, his godfather, who'd said he loved him. Mrs. Weasley. How often had she said that she was like another son to her? Fred and George, to whom he'd given his Triwizard prize money. A very substantial sum, and not only did they make not the slightest attempt to help him, they never even came near.

He started to think of his best friends, but when his eyes started to run with tears, he wiped them fiercely away, and went prowling in the night. He couldn't bear to think how he'd pleaded with them for help, and then Ron had held him, and Hermione made him take the potion. He'd been weakened from three days of illness, of 'preparation,' he knew now, not even thinking clearly, but he'd known he was in very big trouble.

He sat on a seat near an area of flattened dirt, and stared away towards where the waves pounded the beach. He couldn't see far in the dark, scarcely heard the familiar sound, his mind still far away. He knew perfectly well that Snape had helped. He knew that the Aurors had made no move to stop it, presumably agreed to it. Everyone had done as Dumbledore wanted. Yet, that Ron had done that to him! Ron, with whom he'd made friends that very first day. Ron, who'd told him about chocolate frogs, and said that his scar was 'wicked.' And clever Hermione. Surely she'd known what she was helping do. Hermione was not easily fooled.

Ross Davies saw him on the seat and recognised him instantly, even from behind. No-one else had hair that long, though he seldom saw it loose, as it was now. It was well after curfew. He must have made a noise, because Ricky was suddenly up, facing him, fists up, ready to fight. Ross said slowly, "It's only me, Ricky. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Sleeping badly?"

"I was just thinking."

"You'd best go back to bed."

"Yes, Sir."

Ross watched him as he started to walk away, and then stopped and turned, "Mr. Davies?"

"Yes, Ricky."

The boy hesitated, and then spoke decisively, "If I vanish suddenly, don't think I just left without thanking you. It'd be no good trying to find me, just that I wanted you to know."

Ross blinked, "You think you could be taken again?"

"I don't think so. Just in case. There's no point calling the police. No point doing anything, just know that you gave me a good home, and I appreciate it very much."

Ross smiled, "Thank you, Ricky. I do hope you stay safe."

Harry grinned slightly, "So do I, Sir."

He started to walk off, and then turned back for the second time, "You'll probably get a call from the school tomorrow. I wagged today."

"That's a first. Do you intend to do it again?"

"Probably not."

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing?"

"No, Sir."

Ross shook his head, "Go to bed, Ricky."

He left Ross very troubled. He still couldn't think of anything to account for Ricky's mysterious past other than that he was used for sex, obviously by some very powerful men. The original investigations had been suspiciously short-lived and ineffectual. And Ricky himself. In his room were quite a lot of books, many of them bought new. The boys had a small allowance, but not enough to afford that. There were the donations as well. Kreighley boys went on school excursions now, and their library had a budget far larger than previously, mostly because of the 'Tom Foundation.' Maybe there was someone still interested in the boy, someone from his old life.

Ross sighed. He was a good-looking boy. If only he was careful, as long as it was just one man, maybe it was not so terrible. It was just that Ricky was better than that. The 'aptitude test' he'd done, really an IQ test, had indicated a very high intelligence. He was sensible and polite. He spoke well, better than any other of the boys. He helped when new boys arrived. He was a good influence. He should not sell himself for money.

He mentioned his concerns to his wife, and she suggested sleepily that he ask the school to conduct sex education lessons with emphasis on STDs. Ross protested, "He shouldn't be doing it!"

"Are you sure he is?"

Ross admitted grudgingly, "I guess I'm not sure. I am sure that at least one other is."

****

There was nothing in the Daily Prophet about Harry Potter being alive after all. Rita Skeeter was disappointed, but the editor said firmly that it was best if the whole unfortunate affair was forgotten.

The photograph was passed around, but when one wizard mentioned that he really was quite tempting, and as he was a Muggle now… The other said, "A Muggle under the protection of Severus Snape, remember. I wouldn't cross Snape if I were you."

"Do you think Snape?"

The other shrugged, "There's never been any hints about boys, but he must get his pleasures somewhere."

"Maybe when Snape loses interest. After all, if the Dark Lord considered him worthy, who am I to disagree?"

It was only idle talk. They didn't know how to find him.

Snape was surprised that no-one at all commented to him about being seen with Harry Potter. He'd fully expected to be questioned, but it appeared that the world of wizardry preferred to forget there had ever been an innocent fifteen-year-old boy handed over to Lord Voldemort.

***chapter end***


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.__Terms used__: Anirage is another name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the ancient language._

_**_

_**Chapter 3:**_

The following week at Kreighley High, there was a sex education lesson. To try and impress on the boys the serious nature of the talk, the headmaster himself elected to do it. The message was that while of course one should never discriminate against homosexuals, anal sex was one of the best ways to spread the deadly disease of AIDS, as well as other nasty infections. The girls were having a different talk, with a female teacher.

Joseph Helmer passed condoms around to the boys, and said that a condom should always, invariably, be used when having sex with either a woman or man. There were a few muffled snorts, and a comment about balloons for party decorations. Helmer was becoming increasingly annoyed at the lack of seriousness with which his talk was being received, and chose a target, "Ricky! Are you paying the slightest attention to this?"

"I am actually, Sir. I was just working out what it's worth, you know? A sore behind, plus the risk of a terminal illness. I reckon the pay would need to be something like a half a million, rather than eighty pounds and a Nintendo."

Helmer spoke snidely, "Is that what you charge, Ricky?"

"That's what Travis Clark is offering."

Helmer stared at him, stunned. After a moment, he asked, "Are you serious?"

"I am serious, Sir. It is time you fired him."

Helmer snapped, "The rest of you are dismissed. Ricky, stay here."

Harry slumped further in the chair, and wondered if he'd been very foolish. Calling attention to himself was not a good idea, but poor Daniel had been terribly upset. Hadn't realised what he was agreeing to. Helmer sat in the chair opposite him, where he'd been doodling, and asked, quite gently, "What do you know?"

"I'm quite sure no-one will testify, so it's no good going to the police."

Helmer waited.

Harry sighed, "He likes boys about fourteen and fifteen most. He offers them money. The Home can't afford to give us a generous allowance, so we're the ones he targets. There's one he uses regularly, but he likes new ones. There was one… He said there was blood, but went into a panic when I suggested he complain to the police. He's left now. I don't know where he went."

"You say no-one will testify."

Harry shook his head, still looking at the desk.

Helmer tapped his fingers on the desk, and finally asked, "Will you talk to the police?"

"It's only hearsay. They would not take notice of me, maybe give me a hard time even."

"I will stay with you. Ross Davies, if you want."

"What would they want to know?"

"Whatever you can tell them. Sexual assault of a minor is a very serious crime."

"He always pays as far as I know. He doesn't rape."

"If the boy is under eighteen, it is rape by definition."

Ross Davies was not unfamiliar with phone calls requesting his presence at the police station, but was startled when he learned it was Ricky Drayton in trouble. He hurried.

The situation was explained, and the policeman said, frustrated, "All he will say is that it's known that a particular teacher offers money for sex. He will not admit ever accepting the offer, so we basically have nothing."

Ross asked sharply, "Have you been giving the boy a hard time?"

"Of course not, in spite of his very limited cooperation. Now he's stopped answering questions altogether, and tried to insist we either let him go, or call you in."

"He's not done anything himself, has he?"

"We know he's living under a false name. If he were frank about his past, we could more readily accept his word now."

"He's only fifteen! You shouldn't have been interrogating him without me present, maybe even a lawyer."

Conroy said in an obviously patient voice, "He's not in trouble, Ross. What he has done is make a very serious allegation, which he cannot substantiate. Principal Helmer is with him."

"Is he upset?"

Conroy admitted, "Unhappy."

"My boys are seldom comfortable with policemen."

"They should not regard us as enemies."

Ross was shown into the observation room, from which he could see into an interview room through an apparently clear wall. As he'd expected, Ricky was looking thoroughly miserable, slumped in a chair, hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor. As stated, the headmaster of the school was with him, currently looking annoyed and impatient. Ricky looked up, straight at Ross, an appeal in his eyes. Ross murmured, "You should not have done it to him. You don't know what he's been through."

"So how do you think we should approach it? Buy him an ice-cream maybe?"

"That might be a good start."

Conroy said shortly, "I was joking!"

"I'm not. How about we send someone out to get him an ice-cream, and let me do the questioning? If we limit it to the current situation, he won't be as defensive."

Harry looked up with a profound relief when Ross entered the room, even though Officer Conroy was with him. He even gave a half grin when he was presented with an ice-cream. Ross started to eat his own, and said casually, "They offered coffee, but I thought you'd prefer an ice-cream."

"I like ice-cream."

"You got yourself into a little bit of trouble."

"I was a fool to say anything. I just thought he should not be teaching, that's all."

"How long has it been going on?"

"Since before I arrived. I don't know how long."

"And what exactly?"

Harry said hesitantly, "He doesn't force, as I understand, just if a boy agrees, he's paid. But the young ones…. They don't know what it's all about. Don't realise maybe that they're going to be hurt."

Ross asked curiously, "Does it always hurt?"

"I don't know."

"Have you ever been with him?"

"No."

"Has he ever made you an explicit offer?"

"Yes, I refused."

"How much?"

"He started with fifty pounds and a Nintendo, and raised it when I refused. That was last year."

"And the going price now?"

"It varies, I think."

"Who told you this?"

Harry shrugged, "Word gets around."

"Will you tell me the names of any boys we should talk to?"

"No. If they want to make a complaint, it's up to them."

"How many of our boys, do you think?"

Harry shook his head, and said, "Surely he can just be fired! He should not be a teacher."

"I'm afraid it's more complicated that that."

"I will not testify in a court."

"Then we're at a dead end, aren't we?"

Harry glanced at Conroy, "Even if you simply ask him a few questions, he'll probably restrict himself to older boys."

"Does he use a condom?"

"I don't know. Probably little risk for him with younger boys."

"A risk for the boys, though."

"I guess."

Ross finally stood, "May I take him home now please, Bill?"

Conroy hesitated, but finally nodded, and said grudgingly, "Thank you for coming forward, Ricky."

Harry gave him a scant nod, glancing at the clock. He'd been there three hours. Dumbledore had once told him that one should always choose what is right over what is easy, but then Dumbledore had been a hypocritical bastard. Harry was very much wishing he'd kept quiet.

Ross said nothing further about the accused teacher, only asked how school was going otherwise. Harry answered that it was fine.

"No fights?"

"Tomorrow, probably. Mr. Clark is the Sports Teacher, and nearly everybody likes him."

"You think someone will thump you for it?"

"Probably."

"Should I do anything?"

"Absolutely not. I'll take a few bruises, maybe give a couple, and they'll probably forget about it."

"Always risky to dob."

"Yes."

"What would happen if you dobbed in the ones who you were with before?"

Harry gave him a wary look, "I'd be silenced, one way or another. Very likely others would be adversely affected. I would not be so stupid."

Ross said persuasively, "No-one is above the law, Ricky. You should tell the police everything you know."

"Thanks for the ice-cream."

Chris Vale was vehement when he took his friend to task over his 'fuckin' stupidity.' There were a few turned backs as well, though Daniel and Jason, both fourteen, stuck close to him in a show of support. Travis Clark's regular boy, slow-witted Lionel Wickham, didn't do the same classes as the other boys, and didn't yet know that Travis Clark had been suspended pending investigation. He was several months older than Harry, but in what they called the 'Special Education' stream.

Harry was sound asleep when a pair of fists thumped hard into his side, and continued to rain onto him, to the accompaniment of grunts of effort. Harry shielded himself as he tumbled from the bed, and quickly backed away from the enraged Lionel. Lionel threw another punch, clumsy and uncoordinated. He'd never been much of a fighter. Harry blocked it, and said loudly, "For God's sake, Lionel!"

In the other bed, Chris sat up, "What's the matter?"

Lionel launched himself at Harry again, who stepped aside, and neatly tripped him. Lionel hit his head against the wall, which quietened him for a while. Harry asked, "What happened, Li?"

Chris switched the light on, and Lionel sniffled, no longer attacking. Harry asked him again, quite softly, and Lionel started bawling. The words were almost incoherent, but it seemed that Travis didn't want him any more. Harry patted the side of the bed next to him, and when Lionel sat, wrapped an arm around him, and asked Chris to supply a handkerchief, or tissues. Lionel was a mess. Never very attractive, yet he'd been going to Clark for years. He sobbed, "He loved me."

Harry stroked his back, trying to console. They all knew that Lionel would soon have been discarded, but when he finally hiccupped himself to a halt, he said plaintively, "He wanted me to live with him, and now I don't know what I can do."

Harry said comfortingly, "You stay here until the end of the year, anyway. I reckon the boss'll have something worked out for you. If he doesn't, I will." With so much money, surely he should be easily able to provide for one Muggle.

Ross noticed to his surprise that Ricky was being trailed by Lionel as well as Daniel and Jason the following day. The Aurors noted it as well, and put it in their report, along with the fact that he'd appeared in the morning moving a little stiffly, and with a slight bruise on his face. They were using Cloaking Magic. It was not invisibility. A wizard might still see the person or object if his attention was drawn to it, but Muggles seldom did.

It was Friday, and as Harry expected, there were sly punches and several insults. It was a policy of the school that the Kreighley boys be separated where possible, which meant that for most classes, he was on his own. Rumours were flying that Mr. Clark had been arrested because of the lies told by Ricky Drayton. The Kreighley boys were known to back up each other, so it was widely assumed that the others were in it as well. Jason Reed was in a fight quite early, but that was partly because he was incurably lightfingered. It was Harry who was in line for severe punishment. The Sports teacher had shown good judgement in leaving the local boys strictly alone, and he was a favourite with them. He was about forty, divorced, well built, fit, goodlooking and friendly.

Harry walked warily, constantly ready for a challenge. He didn't notice the watching Aurors. His mind was on a different danger. The whole of Friday afternoon was always devoted to organised sport, this time with an inexperienced substitute teacher in charge. Harry suspected that being caught alone today might not be a good idea and it was ominous that not a single Kreighley boy was rostered to be anywhere near the game he was in. Carefully, he tried to stay with the more responsible boys around.

It was to be a game of cricket. The young female teacher checked on them quickly, but Jimmy Baxter, the Head Prefect, indicated that they didn't need supervising. Miss Blair hurried away to where younger students were playing. Baxter sent several students to start playing, and said, "Noisily!"

It was enough to alert Harry, and he started to head after Miss Blair. Pretence was abandoned, his escape was blocked off, and he was surrounded by eight senior boys, all of them bigger than himself. He had not retaliated against the earlier isolated attacks, but eight were going to hurt him. He backed up against a hedge, and prepared to fight. No magic, not unless he was in real danger. A schoolboy fight was unlikely to end with death or even permanent injury.

The Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, put a hand on his younger colleague's arm, "We're forbidden to interfere."

"They're going to kill him!"

"Unlikely."

Harry said to Baxter, quite politely, "Frightened to tackle me alone, Jimmy? I'm happy to fight one to one, you know. Only cowards have this much backup."

The Head Prefect said, "This is not a _fight_, Drayton. This is a punishment. Mr. Clark's a good bloke, and you've soiled his name because of your lies."

Another said, "Mud sticks, and we've probably lost a good teacher because of your lies."

Harry asked, "Would it do any good pointing out that I'm not lying?"

"Kreighley boys lie. We all know that."

Harry nodded, "Sometimes Kreighley boys lie, some of us even steal. None of us have money. It's why he picks on us, rather than luckier boys from decent homes." A couple were starting to waver, and Harry crossed his fingers. He asked softly, "Jimmy? You know me. How often have you caught me in a serious lie?"

Baxter replied in a hard voice, "I know Travis Clark far better than I know you. He does not molest boys."

He flicked his eyes at the biggest of the boys, who threw himself at Harry, followed by others. Harry was an effective fighter, and at first he held his own, inflicting a few bruises. There were too many, and he went down, still struggling, still fighting silently, viciously. If he'd simply curled up and taken the punishment, it is possible that they might have had mercy. As it was, the mob mentality took over, and they started to kick. Harry cried out when his collar bone was broken, and the one who kicked dropped to the ground. Before Harry could do anything else, another boot struck him in the head. He scarcely heard the loud and distinctive whistle that Chris Vale made before starting to run toward them, followed only minutes after by the new boy, Ian Badham. More whistles rang out, and games all over the grounds were disrupted, as every Kreighley boy first repeated the whistle with minor variations, and then ran towards where Chris hurled himself at the ones who were hurting his friend.

Principal Helmer heard the whistles, and swore. He'd heard that before. It was why they kept the Kreighley boys apart from each other. There were twenty-two of them at that time, aged from twelve to eighteen. They stood together against outsiders, and when he looked out his window, he could see running boys from several directions, all heading towards the furthest sports ground.

By the time he arrived, puffing, Harry's 'punishment' had developed into a full-scale brawl. Harry was still dazed when Chris lifted him up, but tried to stand, and looked around him. "Lost my glasses," he said, thickly.

"You're a bloody fool, Ricky."

"Yes." He looked around blearily, "Is everyone fighting?"

"Us against the rest of the fuckers." Harry put his hand to his shoulder, but refrained from healing it. No obvious magic. A Spell of Calm was not obvious magic. The fighting died down, and by the time the police arrived, the fighters were in two separate groups, muttering and glaring at each other. The senior teachers took charge, trying to find what had started it all, sorting out the ones who needed to be checked by a doctor. Helmer instructed his secretary to contact Ross Davies. The Kreighley boys were causing trouble again.

A heavy hand landed on Harry's shoulder, and he folded, crying out in pain. Ian took a swift stride forward, fists balled, but Chris grabbed him, and hissed, "Don't!"

Ian stopped, but snarled, "Leave him alone, Pig! He's badly hurt!"

Officer Conroy looked at Harry in disdain, grabbed his face and inspected the bruises, turning his face from side to side with a fierce hold on his jaw. Harry glared at him through half-shut eyes, and wished very much that it was a good idea to make him hurt as much as he was hurting.

Several girls stood at a distance, with an occasional comment about the immature behaviour of boys. One of the women teachers wheeled on them, "Go and get changed. We don't need spectators!"

The girls dispersed, one of them wrinkling her nose at the bloodied face of a boy lying on his back.

Harry's current girlfriend asked what it was all about, and one of the boys said, "He said that Mr. Clark pays him for sex."

Amanda drew back, horrified. Ricky had never told her about his past, but he liked girls! She knew he liked girls.

Kingsley murmured, "Take pictures, Oliver."

The trainee Auror did as he said, and then they both retreated to a position out of earshot. Kingsley said, "He would not have taken such a severe beating if his magic was not gone. This will convince the Minister he's not a threat."

Pearson pointed out, "He doesn't have a wand. I can't even light a candle without a wand."

"Only Dumblefore and Voldemort could do anything without a wand, but Harry Potter was their equal. In any case, his wand disappeared. Maybe his helper returned it to him."

"I remember him from school. The year when he started playing Quidditch. He seemed so tiny, and yet he was extraordinary. I don't think he ever lost a match."

When the next shift took over, they were able to present their evidence. Harry was in hospital for the night with concussion, cracked ribs, and a broken collar bone. McKenzie reported to Fudge, who said, "Very well, then. You can forget about him, just as you wanted."

"Yes, Minister."

The watch was dropped. McKenzie glanced over the bundled reports, made the file cover look old, eliminated the names, and deliberately misfiled it. Anonymity was Harry's best protection, and only four Aurors, including himself, knew where to find him. None of them were prone to careless talk.

Harry lay flat on his back in the hospital bed. He was in pain, but not allowed pain relief, because it might mask the symptoms of head injury. His collar bone had been subject to some manipulation to improve the positioning of the broken bone, and his arm was now in a tight sling. A stretcher was wheeled in, and Harry turned his head, but couldn't see who it was.

Ross was fully occupied defending his charges against accusations of starting the confrontation. Several students had been checked by a doctor, though only two needed further treatment. There were parents to be talked out of bringing charges of assault. His boys didn't help much, with their belligerent attitude and their use of profanity, but in the end it was acknowledged that they were only defending one of their own.

Larry and Malcolm were together as usual. Ian joined them and gave Malcolm a clap on the back, "You fought well."

Malcolm had fought like a demon, but now he asked in a trembling voice, "What are they going to do to us?"

Larry soothed, "We only did what we had to. We're not in trouble."

Ian looked contemptuous, and Larry said defensively, "He used to get hurt badly when he did something wrong. It's not his fault."

Ian shrugged, "A lot of us used to get hurt. He's not alone."

"Just go away, Ian."

Ian hesitated, and then did as they said. Ricky would be on his case if he belted them up, even if Larry _was_ being bloody cheeky.

Severus Snape went and sat by Harry's bed, regarded the severe bruising and broken skin of his face, and after a while, stroked his wrist. Both of Harry's eyes were blackened, but he managed to open his left eye a slit, and queried, "Professor?"

"Quietly. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"How did you know?"

"McKenzie notified me. It seems you were being watched."

"Oh."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Just a minor broken bone."

"I can't fix it, of course."

"No."

"He said you reported a teacher for sex abuse."

"Yeah. Should've kept my mouth shut."

"You did the right thing. Abusers should be punished."

Harry said mildly, "Dumbledore was rewarded."

"He was accused of using Mind-Magic, you know. It's why everyone went along with him."

Harry turned his face to him, and Snape explained, "Your friends were tricked. He had them giving you potions that made you feel better, and told them they were saving your life. They became accustomed to helping. You should not blame them too much."

Harry said critically, "They should not have been tricked. I begged them to help me."

"Did you really expect them to get out their wands, and start fighting the headmaster?"

Harry sighed, and said, "You should go now. Chris knows your face."

Snape stood, "Contact me whenever you need me."

"Thank you, Professor."

Before he could think about what Snape had told him, a groggy voice came from the other bed, "What was that all about?"

"Is that you, Pete?"

"Yeah. Ca'd you see?"

"Barely. Go back to sleep."

"Are you going to attack me?"

"Not unless you hit first."

"It was that new boy. He broke by dose."

"Ian can fight."

"Bloody Kreighley boys cad all fight."

"Best not pick on one then."

"I guess dot."

After a silence, Peter asked, "Did Clark really offer you to pay you for sex?"

"Yes."

"What's it like, whed it's dud to you?"

"It only happened to me once, and I was drugged at the time. I can scarcely remember it, only that I was sore for days."

"How cub gay bed do it all the tibe?"

"Search me."

Peter said fretfully, "I hate this. Hurts like hell, and I card breathe, card talk properly."

Harry said nothing, and after a pause, Peter said, "Yeah, yeah, I doe. We started it."

"Do you think Jimmy will think I'm sufficiently punished?"

Peter said guiltily, "We started to kick."

"I expect you didn't plan to go that far."

"Of course dot. It was just so you would't ruid eddy bore iddoshed…" He stopped, maybe because his thick speech was scarcely intelligible. Harry didn't feel like talking, and said nothing further. There was no point trying to sleep. Each time he did, a nurse would wake him up again.

Peter spoke again, "About sex. Do eddy of the Kreighley boys do it to each other?"

"Not that I know of."

"What's it like there?"

"It's a good place. Not like a home with parents and brothers and sisters, but we're treated well, and Davies is a top bloke."

Ross had just entered the room, and laughed, "I was only accidentally eavesdropping, but that was nice to hear."

"Hello, Mr. Davies."

"Hello, Ricky."

Harry turned his head, "This is Peter."

Ross nodded, "Peter."

"How do you do, Bister Davies."

"You must be the one with the broken nose. Your parents are furious."

"With be?"

"With us, mostly. Ricky, I want to make sure you don't try and charge anyone with assault. I have an agreement that the whole thing will be forgotten, if so."

"I'm not expelled then?"

"No."

"Good. Have you come to take me home?"

"They say you have to stay under observation, because of the concussion."

Harry sighed, "I hate hospitals."

"Been in hospitals often then?"

"It doesn't take many times."

"I guess not. Anything I can get you?"

"A new pair of glasses?"

"Not until Monday, I'm afraid."

On Tuesday, Harry was back at school. His face looked terrible, and his arm was in a sling, but he listened to the lessons, even when he made little attempt to read or write. Even with his glasses, his eyes were still too closed. He looked terrible, but he was not molested, and it seemed that his punishment was deemed sufficient.

The girl whom he'd regarded as his girlfriend looked him up and down, and then rudely turned her back. Harry took a quick step after her, and then stopped. If he was dumped, he'd rather sort it out in private. She avoided him for the rest of the week. Harry was frustrated. He seldom saw her on a weekday in any case, but on Saturday, he pressed the doorbell of her home.

Mr. Barrett answered the door, and called out to Amanda, "The boy from the Home is here."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the label, but said politely, "Thank you, Mr. Barrett. I expect I'll only be five minutes."

Amanda poked her head into the room, and said briefly, "I don't want to see you any more."

Harry was curious, "Because I dobbed in Mr. Clark, or because I look horrible with bruises?"

Amanda shrugged, "I'm tired of you, that's all."

Harry was philosophical, "Well, we had some good times together. I'm not planning on forgetting that, but I guess I'm clear to ask someone else out."

"I guess."

"Goodbye, Mandy."

Amanda took a step toward him, but her father shook his head, "You can do better than a Kreighley boy."

"I guess…."

Harry walked away, even now not walking freely, but at least he could see more clearly. It had been eight days, the bruising was faded to yellow, but he still wore a sling, and the side of his chest protested if he twisted in certain directions. He'd been told that he was lucky that the ribs were only cracked, and not displaced. He felt like being coddled for a bit, went to a certain spot he knew was always deserted, and apparated to Potter Manor, where the house-elves fell over themselves with pleasure at the privilege of serving him whatever he wanted. This was the third time he'd been since the initial visit with Snape. He could get there by Muggle methods, but it took hours. The house-elves knew he was still a wizard, but a house-elf Bound to a family cannot reveal its secrets.

He spent most of that cold Saturday ensconced in the warm library of his own ancestral home, reading a book by the fire. There was a well-stocked library, which luckily had Muggle books as well as the ones written for wizards. He could scarcely take those back with him. Some were in Old Aniragi, the language of the ancient wizards. He'd intended to take that as an elective in sixth year, but Voldemort had known it, and so now he knew it as well. Voldemort had saved him an enormous amount of study time in many subjects. Unfortunately he hadn't known French. Harry still hoped to go to Oxford, but afterwards, he thought he might live in France.

Things settled down at school over the following week. There were no further attempts by the other students to hurt Harry, though Jimmy Baxter was very cold to him, as well as several others. Peter, the boy from the hospital, was friendly, and some others. The Kreighley boys still thought he'd been stupid, but showed a united front to others. Lionel liked to be close. It seemed almost like he'd adopted Harry as a substitute for the imitation love he'd received from Travis Clark.

Another weekend, and now that Harry felt almost normal, he asked out one of the girls who appeared interested in him. He liked Catherine, but was disappointed when she said that sixteen was definitely too young to go 'too far.' Still, she was fun, and as Chris pointed out, most teenagers have to manage without. Harry returned, "Pity Kreighley is not a home for boys _and_ girls. I'm sure I'd find one then."

Chris grinned, "Well, I don't know how many times I've been asked how much you charge for men to have you."

"If it were true, maybe I would not be feeling so frustrated!" But on the third weekend date, Catherine abruptly decided that sixteen was not too young after all, and Harry was ecstatic.

Amanda started going out with Ian Badham, in spite of her parents' disapproval. Harry gave him a warning. Whatever the custom in his own neighbourhood, a decent man would_ never_ hit a woman.

****

Severus Snape spoke with Gr. Vlasna. It had been a month since Harry had been shown Potter Manor, and there had been no hint that he was planning to compromise its secrecy, even to his Demter Guardian. He thought it indicated that Harry was not willing to trust him fully, and would probably prefer to handle his own business, as indeed he should. The problems were that he could not be receiving paperwork at Kreighley Home for Boys, and he could not be making frequent trips to Diagon Alley. Harry was a Muggle now. His wealth needed to be transferred to a Muggle bank, his investments should not be in wizard businesses, and he needed a Muggle manager, who would never need to know that he had once been a wizard.

Harry agreed willingly to the change, with the proviso that his small interest in the Daily Prophet was not only to be maintained, but increased when possible. He also wanted to invest more heavily in other wizard media. He wanted a controlling interest if at all possible, especially in the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, and said, with relish, "One day, I'm having that bitch, Rita Skeeter, fired!" Correspondence could be sent to him at Potter Manor, either by owl, or using his Muggle address, a Post Office number at the 'Exchange Post Office.'

Snape was surprised, "How did you know about that?"

"The house-elves told me. It seems my ancestors also valued secrecy." The Exchange was a wizard institution, although it appeared pure Muggle on the surface. Muggle mail could be dropped into it, and it magically appeared in the corresponding box at the wizard's home. Hogwarts had one.

Snape asked, "But how often can you get to your house?"

"It happens to be not far from Kreighley, probably a couple of times a month for now."

Snape raised his eyebrows. The landscape hadn't looked like Cornwall to him!

Gr. Vlasna said, "I will organise for a Muggle to take over property management. Are there any of the properties that you wish to sell?"

"Definitely not the ones in France. I want to have a look at them at some stage. Otherwise, consult me before selling anything." He scanned over the list of wizard businesses, and said, "These can all go, and be replaced by Muggle businesses. I like both supermarkets and specialty food stores. Also Microsoft computers, and Nintendo toys. Can you do all that, Gr. Vlasna, or should I wait until I can do it myself?"

"I can do that. I will be sorry not to be managing the Potter wealth myself."

"There are some investments left, and I want you to continue looking after those, especially the media investments. There is also the fact that one day, I will probably have wizard children. Merely because my own magic has been destroyed does not make me a true Muggle."

Snape said, expressionless, "You'll marry a Muggle?"

"A witch, provided my name is not too besmirched, and I can find someone willing to marry me."

"So you haven't disowned us entirely? I thought you had."

"I think Voldemort was quite correct in some of his beliefs. Muggle/wizard marriages are a bad mistake. Muggles should never have to raise wizard children."

Snape nodded, "I agree."

Harry asked, "Do you still have my trunk?"

"Of course. I have everything safe, including your wand."

"I can't have it at Kreighley. Would it be possible to have them delivered to the Exchange Post Office? The house-elves can pick it up from there."

"I'll organise it."

"Thank you, Sir. I am very grateful."

Snape inclined his head, "I have a duty toward you."

It seemed odd to Harry. No-one before Professor Snape had ever seemed to think they had any sort of a responsibility to him. Aunt Petunia had taught him a few things, including the importance of impeccable table manners, but he thought that it was only so she'd have an excuse to cut short his meal if he made the slightest lapse. Uncle Vernon? Well, he'd stopped hurting him so badly after the punishment for going to the policeman. Why they hadn't just sent him to an orphanage…. If Kreighley Beach Home was any indication, they were not bad at all.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belongs to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 4:**_

Clark was absent from school for a few weeks, but then it was announced that the allegations against him had been totally unfounded, and he would be returning as Sports teacher. There was a spontaneous cheer, and several turned to sneer at Harry, who took care to show nothing at all.

He was still excused from sport, so it was a few days before he happened to pass the Sports teachers in the corridor. Clark said casually, "You caused me some trouble, Ricky."

"Keep away from the young ones, don't hurt anyone, and I won't cause any more."

Clark was astounded, "You're not _threatening_ me, are you?"

Harry hesitated, "I don't know. If I find another kid as upset as Dan was after he took up your offer, I will not stay silent."

"I will not touch anyone under eighteen. Will that satisfy you?"

"Yes, Mr. Clark."

Clark shook his head, wondering just exactly how a teenage youth had managed to intimidate him. Those cold, measuring eyes. He'd never seen Ricky look like that. He'd wanted him. Brilliant green eyes, long silky hair, a beautiful build. Not very big. He preferred his boys not too big. But he no longer wanted Harry. It was a little difficult to think of him like that now.

That same day, Harry turned a note over and over in his hands. It was from Vance McKenzie, suggesting a meeting on Saturday. Severus Snape was to be there, and would collect him.

He was a little suspicious, aware that it could be a trap. He watched from cover for a time, extending his mind, in a skill he scarcely realised he had. Once he was sure that the man in severe Muggle dress was Severus Snape and not an imposter, he slipped back to a position a little further away, and then walked towards his Demter Guardian as if it had never occurred to him to worry.

Snape greeted him, asked how his shoulder was, and said, "We're to meet Vance McKenzie at a Muggle place, in Brighton. Are you ready to apparate?"

"What does he want?"

"To talk to you. Maybe to thank you."

"Is it safe?"

Snape reminded him, "You're the one who said that you wanted people to know you're still alive."

"I guess."

They found McKenzie sitting at table overlooking the beach. There was no-one close. Harry nodded when he was introduced, and commented, "I've seen you around."

McKenzie was taken aback, "I was always dressed as a Muggle. You should not have noticed me."

Harry swore to himself. He could tell Muggle from wizard by the feel of them, but he guessed not everyone could. He said, as casually as he could manage, "Maybe you need to work on your Muggle-dress skills. But anyway, I saw you before, I think. At Hogwarts."

McKenzie said, relieved, "So you did. I thought you would have forgotten."

Snape said, "There's a small café near. We can talk safely there if we use a Privacy Charm."

McKenzie stood, "It's cold here. We'll have a coffee."

Harry looked around at the small café where they sat with some pleasure. It was not something he'd done before. McKenzie asked what sort of a coffee he'd like, but he glanced at a different menu, "May I have a chocolate sundae please?" It was not only because he liked ice-creams, it was also because he wanted to be seen as a harmless boy. Vance McKenzie was the Chief Auror. He could make life very difficult for Harry. He knew perfectly well that he was safe only as long as McKenzie permitted it.

Once they were served, the men with coffees, and Harry with his ice-cream, the Privacy Charm was performed, and McKenzie started to speak seriously. "Our world owes you a great deal, Harry. We didn't want to hurt you afterward, but we were all far too much under the influence of Dumbledore."

Harry flashed him a look, and took another mouthful of ice-cream. He didn't want to talk about that time afterward. They'd forced potions on him, every morning, every evening. It was how he'd learned to fight. Every time he'd fought. He _hated_ potions!

McKenzie sighed, "I am sorry, Harry. I know you've never spoken of our world to Mugglekind. I know you're not a danger to us."

Harry suddenly pushed away his half-eaten sundae, and said coldly, "I cannot use magic any more, and if I did speak of magic, they'd only think I was insane. Whether I wish to or not, I cannot do any harm to anyone."

McKenzie's eyes fell on the wrist-bands, and he wondered if they could be removed now. Probably not. All attempts had failed before. He glanced at Snape, who was looking imperturbable, then tried again, "We owe you something. I have something I want you to accept." He pushed over a small box.

Harry opened it, and studied the pendant inside. On a black leather thong, a tiny figurine, a flying silver horse. McKenzie explained, "Like the pendant you sometimes wear. You could wear it all the time if you wanted. It is untarnishable silver, like on the Bracelets. It's a way you can call for instant help, for instance if you are attacked by someone like John Pettit. You twist the wings around so they touch, and the Auror Office is alerted, and someone will come to you, to help."

"So there's a Locator Charm on it?"

"It will hardly work if there's not. It's not effective all the time. Only if you put it in the wings together position."

Harry fiddled with it, turning it and putting the wings together. McKenzie nodded, "It's a call for help. Your magic should never have been stripped from you. Even with the aid of Mind-Magic, Dumbledore didn't try and convince anyone to accept that."

Harry turned a questioning look towards Snape, who nodded. Harry thought he could run a few checks on the pendant as soon as he was alone, and slipped it into his pocket, - not around his neck, just in case, and said, "Thank you."

McKenzie smiled, pleased and a little surprised that the gift had been accepted. He would have expected that Harry would have been a little less trusting after his experiences. Snape said casually, "Finish your ice-cream, Harry. No point wasting it."

Harry started eating again. If McKenzie thought he did what Snape said, that too, would help.

Snape said, "There's another thing. It is time you had your eyes fixed. The eye specialist is Troy Vanden. He says that it should be a straightforward series of spells, though quite exacting. The problem is afterwards, you'll need to stay very quiet, and leave on a blindfold."

McKenzie said, "It's notoriously difficult to change a wizard's genetic inheritance. It's why people sometimes get into deep trouble when they try to improve their appearance with spells or potions. You'll need to trust us."

"For how long afterwards?"

"Six days, if all goes well. If there's any sort of a disturbance, even longer."

Harry was playing with his ice-cream, and Snape said, "It's difficult to stay quiet that long, especially for an active teenager. Children are mostly kept very quiet with the aid of potions."

Harry shook his head decisively, "No potions!"

"I thought you'd say that. And I expect you would prefer not Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head, suddenly feeling panicky inside. Not Hogwarts!

McKenzie said, "A quiet flat, within walking distance. You can have a look now if you like. This is not a Ministry matter, and only myself, Severus, and perhaps the school nurse would know where you are. Spells on your bedroom, which will make you feel calm and sleepy, but all you have to do is walk out the door, and you'll feel normal again. TV if you like. That should help you sleep. I've always found it totally boring myself." Harry gave a weak smile.

Snape said, "Professor McGonagall is very much in favour of it, and both myself and Madam Pomfrey will be available for a week. You would never be alone."

Harry took off his glasses, and fiddled with them. He looked around at the blur. He might be a powerful wizard, but when it was so easy to take away clear sight… He should have his eyes fixed. They were quite right.

He replaced his glasses, and studied Vance McKenzie, who looked back, hoping that he'd be judged trustworthy. What had the Prophecy said, _Shame for the Side of Light…. The Child of Light lost and broken…_ Harry Potter had been bitterly hurt, and would not trust lightly.

Harry said, "You said a flat, quite close?"

"We'll go and see it now if you're finished."

"I am finished."

It was a spacious two bedroom flat, quite nice, though the block of six flats looked a little rundown. It overlooked a stony beach, and Snape said, "You actually own them. It's a nice earner for you."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"They need a coat of paint."

"Would you like me to mention it to your manager? It can be done before next Summer."

"Thanks, Professor, but I can handle it."

"Call me Severus. You're not my student any more."

Harry tried it, tentatively, "Severus."

"You'll get used to it."

"Can you show me the spells?" Snape went into the bedroom, thought for a moment, then started muttering incantations, wand held still, as he moved himself in a circle. He finished, glanced at the bed, blinking, and said, "They work. The bed is looking suddenly inviting."

Harry nodded, looked at the bed, then stepped outside the doorway, relieved when he felt perfectly normal again. McKenzie too, tried and remarked, "Very effective."

Harry said, "Professor Snape… Severus. Is it a good idea?"

Snape nodded, "It is a good idea. You may not have been directly responsible, but when over 10% of the adult male population of Britain is wiped out at one blow, it's not going to be forgotten."

Harry stared, "10%?"

"Our population is small, the numbers are very significant."

"Why did so many follow him?"

"He was different when he was young. He was close to winning the war. It was not evil versus good, as you've been led to believe. It was more like a Civil War. Many felt the Ministry was far too much under the influence of Dumbledore, and far too open to corruption."

"But then he heard that prophecy, and decided he had to eliminate the threat."

"Yes. There hadn't been many cold-blooded killings before that."

"I never knew a great deal about it. Just that he killed my parents, and meant to kill me. I just reacted. I was never a warrior. No-one should blame me." Harry was feeling close to tears. 10% of the male population! How had he done that? He _hadn't_ done that. It was just that the fools had allowed a magical Binding Mark, so they'd died when their Master died.

Snape said inexorably, "Right or wrong, you have enemies."

Harry took a deep breath, "Blake Brooks. He was the leader in that attack on the Aurors. He said I'd be blamed, probably sent to a closed ward at St. Mungo's, never see the light of day again."

McKenzie said, "Blake Brooks. Were there any others?"

"Blake Brooks was the leader, John Pettit and Roddy Liddicombe, several lookouts, I think. Pansy Parkinson warned them to get a move on, so she was one of those keeping watch. The Aurors were lured in when a girl screamed. They didn't even look for an ambush. I thought Aurors were supposed to have more brains than that."

McKenzie said dryly, "They are."

Snape pressed, "Well, do you agree, Harry? Maybe next week?"

"Hadn't I better see the eye specialist first? Make sure it's possible?"

Snape took the spells off the room, and held out an arm, "Vanden's office, then."

McKenzie asked, "Will I come?"

Snape replied, "I'll let you know what he decides."

They were not kept waiting long, called in before a woman with a child of around five, and two elderly men. Vanden did a brief examination, and said, "Perfectly straightforward, at least it is for me. It's a pity you didn't have it done years ago."

"I was lucky to be given glasses years ago."

"Well… Monday week?"

Harry nodded, and Snape smiled. Vanden said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'll complete the healing of the collar bone as well. At this stage, the Muggles won't notice."

"I thought it was better."

"It probably feels it, but it's not completely."

Harry said, "Then yes please." He still tensed a moment, but if he was going to trust them, it would be silly to balk at this minor thing.

Once they left Vanden's office, Snape said, "I'm very pleased that you're willing to trust us, Harry."

"Do you remember when Madam Pomfrey tried to take the Bracelets off, and she failed?"

"I remember."

"I thought then that it was never intended to take them off. It was all a pretence so I wouldn't be frightened. I thought you'd offer to try, except that you'd kill me."

"Why didn't you run, if that's what you thought?"

"The Aurors at the door. And anyway, by then I wasn't sure it mattered. Life was pretty miserable. It turned out you really were trying, I could feel it. You nearly did it." He gave a half smile at Snape, "So maybe I should trust you now."

"I always wondered why you seemed happier when logically you should have been more miserable."

"You didn't kill me after all. I thought that was quite a good sign."

Snape laughed, "I guess it was."

Harry had one of his periodic nightmares that night. Again he was begging for help, struggling as he was held tight and fed the potion that had rendered him mindlessly passive. He only vaguely remembered the physical pain of the rape, but clearly, it seemed, he could feel the pull at the core of him, the pull at his magic. He muttered and fretted. In his dream, a judge made his appearance, shaking his head, condemning him. Over 10% of the male population. He cried, _"No!_ Don't lock me up! _Please!"_

Chris mumbled, "Shut up, Ricky. No-one's locking you up."

Harry woke, staring at the ceiling, panting, still in the grip of his panic.

It took him a very long time to settle down. He'd never done the arithmetic. Over three hundred Death Eaters had died, not counting the ones knocked unconscious. Some had been left with brain damage. Around six thousand Anirage in Great Britain, less than three thousand men, as there was always a greater toll among the men from fighting and accidents, - was it three hundred and seventeen deaths Draco had told him? That was easily over 10%. It you took children and old men out of the equation, probably closer to 15%. Some of the Death Eaters would have been women. 10% then. How could he go back to the wizarding world, _ever?_ How could such a death toll be forgiven? There could hardly have been a family unaffected!

****

Ross Davies looked up at the knock at the open door, and sighed. Ricky again. It was not that he was a real problem, rather it was that he suspected that he had little real influence with the boy. He asked, "Are you about to get into trouble again, Ricky?"

"Well, the school might not like it, maybe. It's just that I'll be away for the week, probably back next weekend. I thought I'd best tell you so you don't give away my bed."

Ross said with a hint of sarcasm, "So you are thinking of returning?"

Harry said politely, "Yes please, Mr. Davies."

"Are you going to your protector? Will he pay you?"

Harry hesitated, and then laughed, "You could call him a protector. I am confident I will return."

Ross said persuasively, "You're only just sixteen, Ricky. Tell me where you're going. I'm responsible for you. I need to know."

"I don't expect to be in any danger, Sir, moral or physical. It's only that I'll get behind in my schoolwork, but that can't be helped."

Ross complained, "I think I'd really rather have a straightforward pickpocket or thug. They don't pose the problems you do."

Harry grinned, "Sorry, Sir."

Ross spread his arms out, "Go then. But please come back. And please, tell me if you're in trouble."

"I'm not in trouble, Sir."

Ross muttered, "I hope not."

Harry went to the door, and at the last, Ross said quickly, "Whatever it is, Ricky, good luck."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll be back in a week. I've told Chris, so he won't be worried."

Ross watched from the window as the boy headed toward the bus stop. He clearly remembered him returning before, looking like he'd been though hell. The doctor had said that he was merely exhausted and malnourished. Aside from a few bruises, there had been no injuries.

Snape took Harry to the flat first, and Harry set up his CD player, bought for just this purpose, and said, "I'll show you how to work it, Severus, if you don't mind. I thought I'd listen to some French lessons while I'm here, as I can't do much else."

Snape picked up the CDs he'd put down, and nodded, "Good idea. Maybe you should have music as well."

"I didn't buy any music." Harry looked around and shivered suddenly. He didn't like it.

Snape said casually, "I haven't put the spells on the bedroom yet. You'll feel better then. And any time you start to worry or be too restless, just think that you'll never need your glasses again. And call for Poppy or I to come and help."

"Where is Madam Pomfrey?"

"At the Healer's probably."

Harry went to the bed, and then counted his steps to the window, and then to the door, and into the bathroom, closing his eyes, and feeling around. Snape said, "You will have help. Whatever you need."

"I sincerely hope I do not need help in the bathroom, blind or not."

"Merely blind_folded_, Harry. There is a difference."

"Yes."

He turned and studied Snape. Voldemort had known about Legilemency, and for several days, Harry had been practising. Snape drew back, startled, "Where did you learn _that?"_

Harry looked away, embarrassed. Snape said quietly, "Relax. I understand you're nervous."

Harry admitted, "I have nightmares about Aurors coming at me with Calming Potions."

"That will not happen."

Harry shivered, and Snape put a hand on his shoulder, "Would you like a backrub to help you relax?"

Harry drew away, but laughed, "I don't think that will be necessary."

"We can simply cancel it, you know. It's something _for_ you, not something you have to do."

"Yes. I'm very grateful to you for setting it all up."

"It is owed."

Harry regarded him, a wry smile on his face, "I can't help thinking that you're right. The wizarding world does owe me."

"Ready to go?"

Harry shut his eyes again, made his way slowly to the bathroom, then counted his steps back to the bedroom, even to the bed. Finally he nodded, "Ready to go."

Harry didn't really like putting himself in the hands of others, and was very tense when Vanden aimed his wand. Vanden dropped it to his side, and said, "Relax. This first is routine, then a few more precise spells, checking between each one. None will hurt."

Harry looked at Snape, who said smoothly, "Healer Vanden has impeccable references, and I can assure you that he is not a Death Eater."

Vanden added, "Vance McKenzie actually insisted that I show him my forearm before he said who the special patient was. In any case, I could prove that I was working all day when it happened. No Death Eater could have been working that day."

"Yes, Sir. Please go ahead."

It took little time then, and Harry beamed when, for the first time in his life, he found he could see clearly without glasses. But then the blindfold, and Vanden stressed, "Stay very quiet for six days, and I'll check you. No disturbances, or you could find your eyes as bad or worse than they were before."

"Yes, Sir." Already he was hating the blindfold, hating the feeling of helplessness.

Snape said, "I believe there's a rather strange daytime serial on TV at the moment. I'm quite sure it'll put you straight to sleep."

Harry relaxed, and laughed. Snape would look after him, and he could maybe throw away his glasses forever.

The spelled room worked well for the first two days, but then it seemed like a yawning vista of days still to go. Snape found him pacing when he entered the room on the third day, and shook his head as Harry wheeled to face him. "It's only me. Relax."

Harry admitted, "It's getting harder to be quiet."

"You're an active person by nature. I was wondering… What about Muggle drugs, maybe on your food. Would that help?"

Harry looked restlessly toward the window where he could hear the noise of the sea.

Snape said softly, "They're not like potions."

Harry lay back on the bed, "They're exactly like potions, except that maybe they don't taste as bad. I'll play the French lesson again, I think."

"I have a book. I'll read it to you if you like."

Harry chuckled, "Probably you'll go to sleep."

"Then I'll tell you again about your experimental laser surgery that has cured your eyes."

"That would be useful."

When he put himself to bed, he lay face down. Snape took the hint, and while he gave him details of an entirely fictitious hospital stay, he rubbed his back, quite firmly. He'd done it like that when Harry had been almost out of his mind with pain from the Binding Bracelets. Harry at last relaxed, and settled further into the bed.

Poppy Pomfrey glanced in and smiled. She'd known Severus a very long time. His temper had improved drastically since Voldemort was killed. He no longer took pleasure in humiliating students, and his teaching had improved. She felt a lot more relaxed herself. She'd been widowed by Voldemort. Her mind had been on her Pierre when she'd joined the queue to look on the dead face of the monster. Now the two of them were looking after the boy who'd achieved it. This time, he was looked after as he should have been looked after in the first place, not treated as a dangerous criminal, certainly not subject to the agony of having his magic destroyed. She could barely imagine how painful that must have been.

When she noticed Snape's eyes drooping, she indicated, and then took his place. The spells affected anyone in the room. Just using spells or potions on the patient was far more practical.

Snape shook off his sleepiness in the other room, and went to the window. It was a cold, Wintry November day. How was he going to keep the boy quiet for as long as needed? It was fairly obvious that he was becoming habituated to the spells.

Harry found it a lot easier to be quiet the next day, mostly lightly sleeping. It wasn't until breakfast the day after, sleepily eating the cereal that Snape had provided that he suddenly put down his spoon. Snape asked quietly, "All right, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him, tilting his head to the side a little. He would have been staring if he wasn't wearing a blindfold. At last he sighed, "All right, Severus." A Muggle drug, he guessed, since it didn't taste foul. Probably all day yesterday, when it had seemed so much easier. He resumed eating.

Snape said gently, "You're doing well. Only a few more days, probably. Vanden will do his check Sunday at breakfast." Snape felt a sense of quiet achievement. For years, he'd been trying to make reparation for that disastrous error of judgement when he'd allowed the man he'd so much admired to Mark him as his follower. Spying on him afterwards had been a precarious occupation, especially as sometimes Dumbledore had seemed far too careless with the information that he was a spy. Only after he was dead had he been grateful that so many knew of his true loyalty. Dumbledore never had put it in writing, and he could so easily have been arrested for the crimes he'd committed as a Death Eater. That Harry had guessed about the drugged breakfast, and then eaten it anyway…. The boy trusted him. It felt very good to be trusted.

****

Sunday morning, Harry was feeling far more alert, if not agitated, pacing the room, waiting for the Healer. Snape threatened, "Either sit down, or I'll spell you asleep. You're making me dizzy!"

Harry sat, "Sorry, Severus."

Madam Pomfrey said severely, "Really Severus. The poor boy's just anxious. He just needs a little care and gentleness."

Snape sighed, obviously, "Do you want a backrub, Harry? Will that help?"

Harry grinned at him, "I want a backrub from Catherine! She has certain attributes you don't!"

Snape laughed, though the nurse was a little shocked, "You're a little young to be thinking of such things surely, Harry!"

"I'm seventeen, Poppy. I could marry if I chose."

Snape winked at the nurse, "It's Pure-blood wizarding tradition you know, to marry early."

Poppy sniffed, "Harry should still be at school."

"I am at school, and next year, University, I hope." He stood again, and walked to the door, cocking his head, then feeling around, and raising the window, "I can hear the waves."

Snape said casually, "There are hardly any waves to hear. I made a spell to make it sound like Kreighley Beach."

"I should have guessed."

"Just _don't_ start pacing again!"

Harry went to the sitting room and felt for the TV remote, flicking through the channels.

He jumped when the doorbell rang, but beamed when he was finally allowed to have the blindfold off. It seemed a miracle that he could look around, and see everything, perfectly clearly. He kept touching his face. It seemed that he _had_ to be wearing glasses. The healer watched him, smiling. It was rare to do this routine correction on a teenager. It should have been done much earlier. Harry smiled around, "_Thank_ you, Healer Vanden."

Snape said casually, "The account as discussed."

The healer replied, "Certainly." The account was to be paid from the Tom Foundation, by Snape. But afterwards, as was already arranged, Harry would take over administration of the charity. From now on, any Kreighley boy who qualified could go to University. It would not fund Oxford or Cambridge, but certainly it would pay for the University of Cornwall. There was a Campus at Falmouth, which was quite close to Traynor.

Vanden's eyes dropped to the Binding Bracelets. He'd heard about those. A good thing on the whole. Otherwise the boy would probably become as obsessed with having total power as had been the megalomaniac who'd died. As it was… He came forward, and shook his hand. "Our world owes you a debt of thanks. I hope you know that."

Harry touched his eyes, and said, "Not our world, _your_ world. But it has come in useful this time."

"No active sports for three days, and don't read for more than an hour at a time, no more than three hours in a day."

Snape said, "You were going to provide a note for his school."

"Ah, yes." He fished out a note from his pocket, "It says you've had specialist treatment, experimental in nature. It excuses you from sport and any physical exertion until the end of the coming week."

Snape said, "No mention of magic in other words. Perfectly safe for your Muggle teachers."

"Good."

Ross breathed a sigh of relief when Harry reported that he was back, and showed him the note. He said accusingly, "You could have _told_ me. I was worried sick!"

"Yes, Sir. There were reasons."

"Did it work?"

Harry grinned, "No glasses. I've _always_ worn glasses. It's wonderful!"

"Well, it seems your protector has done some good, finally."

"It does seem that way."

"Did you have to pay?"

Harry grinned, carefree, "Not in the way you always assume!"

Ross said sternly, "I should have you thoroughly checked for sexual abuse."

"I didn't have to do anything like that, and anyway, to see clearly like this... Maybe it would have been worth it. Someone told me it doesn't have to hurt if it's done right."

"Planning on trying it?"

"No way. Much better to have a girlfriend!"

He went and phoned Catherine after that, and arranged to visit at her house. Catherine said, "We can watch a movie if you like."

"Great." But it would have been better if they had somewhere private to go. It was November, far too cold for sex outside.

****

Harry lived in a Muggle world. School was satisfying, he had friends, and Catherine gave him enormous pleasure whenever there was sufficient privacy. He thought he was perfectly happy in his life. No-one was trying to kill him, there were no impossible expectations, and he lived next to the beach. What more could he want? The first of the dreams about his old world began slowly. Of all things, he was in a History of Magic class, and exchanging notes with Ron about the latest gossip. According to his dream, Draco Malfoy and Venetia Vanden had been discovered kissing in a broom cupboard. He remembered it clearly when he woke, and put it down to Venetia having the same surname as the eye specialist. She was probably related.

The next night, and again it was fairly mundane. He and Ron were practising a particular shield spell, with Hermione complaining that if they'd only paid more attention to the preparatory work, they would not be having any trouble. In the next nights, he dreamed of working in the library, with Madam Pince looking at him disapprovingly, at a detention, he didn't know what for, and the line he was writing was surely nonsense_, I must never stir anti-clockwise._

He didn't need glasses any more. It was a continuing pleasure to him. He may have routinely used charms to ensure his glasses stayed in place, and didn't become fogged up with rain or sweat, but they'd still been a nuisance. A wizard healer had done that for him, and both Severus Snape and Poppy Pomfrey had given up a week of their time to help him afterwards. They may have owed him some consideration, but they hadn't had to give him any.

There was that device that Vance McKenzie had given him as well. There had been no tricks with that. He'd checked thoroughly. Voldemort's knowledge came in very useful sometimes, though he still avoided looking too closely at his memories.

He dreamed of diving after the snitch in a game of Quidditch, filled with the joy of speed and flight. He remembered the dream clearly when he woke, and admitted to himself that he might be just a little homesick. Maybe the bitterness was finally fading. His world had had its good points. One day, he guessed he could be Harry Potter again, just as long as he was thought to be harmless. If he was attacked? Severus Snape hadn't been trying to frighten him. What he'd said was quite true. He would have enemies.

He made a few decisions. One day, he would try a return to his own world, like a test of the water. He would not be unprepared. He'd practice with weapons aside from magic, - a knife, a gun maybe, though they were strictly regulated in Britain. Lessons in self defence were expensive, but any tricks he could learn would be helpful. He was rated a good fighter by the other boys, but maybe he needed to be an expert fighter.

There were other defences that could come in helpful. He should be skilled in picking locks, for instance, and maybe how to steal and drive a car. Chris Vane was stunned when he was asked for lessons, but helpful. A nearby farmer never knew that his car had been 'stolen' several times over, or that it had been used for driving lessons. Silencing spells and Cloaking Magic could be done surreptitiously, and Chris only assumed that the farmer and his family were away, as Ricky said. Jason was the expert in picking locks. He said his father had started teaching him when he was about five.

***chapter end***


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 5:**_

Ross Davies sent a message that he wanted to speak to him, and when Harry arrived, he found Daniel Lye sitting nervously in the office with two strangers, a man and a woman, who looked to be approaching middle age. Ross introduced him to Mr. and Mrs. Chase. Harry was polite, but puzzled. Mr. Chase explained, "We want to get to know Daniel better. We know his grandmother, you see, we know he was orphaned, and there's no-one to look after him."

Ross put in, "Dan's reluctant to visit, so we thought if you went with him, maybe he'd feel better."

"What about school?"

Mr. Chase said, "We live close. If you agree, you and Dan could stay a week, beginning Saturday. You would still attend school."

Harry asked, "Dan?"

Daniel said quietly, "I'd like to go."

Harry nodded, "All right. It will be a nice change."

Daniel Lye had only been orphaned a year before, in an horrific car accident that had killed his parents, an umarried aunt, and his brother.

Mrs. Chase smiled at the pair, "You can call us Vera and James, or Mr. and Mrs. Chase, whatever feels most comfortable. You'll need to pack swimmers, some nice clothes, as well as school uniform."

Dan said awkwardly, "My nice clothes are all too small."

"Then we'll go shopping, first thing Saturday morning."

"Will you take me to visit Grandma?"

Mrs. Chase warned, "She may not know you."

"I'd still like to."

"Then yes, and think about any other places you might want to go to. We want you to have a good time."

It was unspoken, but everyone involved knew that it was a possible adoption being considered. Daniel was one of the few boys at the Home available for adoption. Most of the boys had a parent living, some had two. There was also the fact that many of the boys would not appeal to prospective adoptive parents. Not only were they older than people mostly wanted, but too many had been in trouble of one sort or another. Daniel had been sent here mostly because his only living relative, Agatha Lye, lived in a Nursing Home in Traynor, just three miles from the Boys' Home. They went to school in Traynor. As far as Ross Davies could tell the Chases, Daniel had never been involved in any trouble, unlike his best friend, Jason.

Daniel dragged Harry out early to wait at the designated spot for the Chases to pick them up. It was ten to nine, and they were in front of Ross's office, their suitcases on the ground next to them. They each wore garments provided by the Home, neat grey trousers, a teal blue collared shirt, and a grey blazer, with 'Kreighley' on the breast pocket, an attractive design also in teal blue. Snape had very much disapproved of seeing Harry Potter shabby.

Dan said, "Thanks for coming, Ricky."

"They seem decent people."

"I thought Mr. Clark was all right."

"He hasn't been bothering you, has he?"

"He acts as if he doesn't know me."

Harry was relieved, "Me too. He told me he won't touch anyone under eighteen from now on, and since then he pretends nothing happened."

Daniel asked hesitantly, "Do you think many people are like Mr. Clark?"

"I don't know."

"Mr. Clark, he. …"

Daniel stopped, and Harry turned to him seriously, "You do know that if he simply overpowered you and raped you, you should definitely make a complaint."

Dan shrugged, "It wasn't like that. I was stupid. What we were doing…" He blushed, and stopped again.

Harry finished for him, "The sex play felt good, but the sodomy didn't? I can understand that. There's no need to feel guilty about it."

Daniel said fervently, "I don't want anyone, _ever,_ to do it to me again."

"Me, neither."

Dan turned to him, surprised. He hadn't known that it had happened to the one he knew as Ricky. Before there was a chance to question, a sleek car drew up, and James Chase was bundling their suitcases into the boot of the car.

They were given a good time that Saturday. The Chases were obviously wealthy, and Harry watched as Vera Chase insisted on buying Daniel several sets of good clothes. It seemed that Dan was too shy to object, or even choose between one garment and another. Harry helped him, shaking his head at one shirt, saying that the other boys would call him a pansy. He was grateful that Mrs. Chase accepted his refusal of any gifts for himself without argument. It was Daniel they were interested in, he was only along for the ride. Daniel was very shy, scarcely volunteering a remark. Harry stayed close, like a big brother, as he told himself. Dan's brother had been three years older than himself.

There were a few guest bedrooms, but the boys found they were to share. Dan was relieved, Harry indifferent. He was asleep when Dan asked quietly, "Ricky, are you awake?"

Harry gave an incoherent sound, and turned over, away from the other boy. After a moment, Dan asked again, "Are you awake, Ricky?"

Harry reluctantly admitted, "I'm awake."

"Did you enjoy Tintagel Castle?"

Harry turned onto his back. "It was fascinating. To think that Merlin once walked there!"

"Do you believe he existed?"

"Myths and legend, who knows?"

"They spent a lot of money on us."

"Yes."

"They're taking me to see Grandma tomorrow."

"Do you want me to come?"

"You don't have to, and you said you'd just as soon miss church, and we're going to church first."

"I'm not religious."

"Mum and Dad were. I always used to go to church with them."

"I think my time would be better spent on study. It's my final year, and I want to go to Uni."

"How?"

"I don't know exactly yet, but I reckon I'll get there."

Daniel seemed to be satisfied to be quiet, but the moment that Harry shut his eyes, he started again. "I like it here, but you hear such stories." Harry made a grunt that could be interpreted as a query.

Daniel asked, "Do you mind talking, Ricky? You're not tired are you?"

Harry said, resigned, "I can talk, I'm not tired."

"They seem all right. I don't think they'd hit me or whip me or anything."

"You don't just get adopted without some sort of a trial period. There's no hurry to make up your mind, you know."

"Ethan said his father used to spout passages from the bible, and then whip him. He said the bible said not to spare the rod."

"We're a biased sample at Kreighley, Dan. Not many of us came from good homes."

"What do you mean a biased sample."

"I mean that a much higher proportion of us have been abused as children. If you judge by us, you'll think it's more common than it is."

"Were you abused?"

"There are no scars."

"Are your parents alive?"

"They died a long time ago."

"You're an orphan too, then."

"Yes."

Harry didn't try and go to sleep this time. He had a feeling that Dan wasn't finished. It took nearly a quarter of an hour, but then Dan said quietly, "I'd like to have a Mum and Dad again, but what if they knew?"

"About Clark? Why should you tell them?"

"Mum always said I should be honest with people."

Harry sighed, "I don't know, Dan. I wouldn't, but I don't know how to have a Mum and Dad. I wouldn't know how to act."

"Do you think you're too old to be adopted?"

Harry said ruefully, "I think I've been too old for years now. I don't think I could trust anyone enough."

"A year ago, it would never have occurred to me that grown-ups might want to hurt me. It's why I wanted you to come. I was scared."

"I don't think you have much to fear from the Chases, but as I said, there's no hurry. Get to know them, and then ask for a long trial period, if you want. They can just be foster parents, maybe."

"Then it wouldn't be real."

Another long pause, and Dan said, "Anyway, they probably don't want me. Like in a shopping mall, they'll look at lots of boys, and choose the one they like best."

"I guess. Maybe you should just enjoy this week, and not worry about a future."

In a different bedroom, Vera Chase asked, "Are you awake, Honey?"

James Chase said, "It's a responsibility, isn't it? I didn't expect that he'd be so timid."

"He's been at a Home for nearly a year. Ross admitted that he's got some very tough boys. Maybe they've given him a hard time, bullying maybe."

"Ricky doesn't seem tough."

"He'd be hard to get to know, I think." He turned to his wife, "So what about Daniel?"

Vera smiled, "I could love him to bits, I think. If he'll let us."

In the morning, Daniel made his appearance for breakfast without Harry. Vera smiled approvingly when he tucked into a generous cooked breakfast, but James asked where Ricky was. Daniel answered, "Running probably. He nearly always goes running in the morning."

"A fitness fanatic then?"

"I don't think so, exactly. He says it's important to be able to run fast, and for a long time, just in case."

"Just in case?"

"I don't know. It's just what he says."

At that moment, there was the sound of the front door, and then footsteps running up the stairs. James grinned, "He does seem fit."

Ten minutes later, Harry slipped into a chair, and apologised for being late. He appeared freshly showered, and wore faded jeans, and one of his 'Kreighley' shirts. His hair was wet, combed, but not yet tied back. James asked, "You were running, Ricky?"

"I went further than intended, mostly because I lost my way."

"So where did you end up?"

"It looked like some sort of a monastery, of all things. Weird."

"Elton Priory, probably. You must have gone a long way."

"It's good to know your way around."

"What do you plan on this morning, Ricky?"

"Do you mind if I stay here? I'll come if you want me to."

"What religion are you?"

"I have no religion."

James protested, "You must have some religion!"

"What I do have is a History assignment I want to work on."

Vera glanced at her husband, "You are welcome to use our library if you wish."

"Thank you." He hesitated, and asked, "May I use the pool while you're gone?"

"Of course."

"That's good of you. I promise I won't damage anything."

Vera said gently, "Ross Davies told us you were a good, responsible boy. We have full confidence in you."

James said breezily, "Personally, I would never dare promise not to damage anything. It's too easy to have accidents."

Harry glanced at Daniel, and said, as if a joke, "So you don't keep a stockwhip in the cupboard in case we break a vase?"

James laughed, but Vera said seriously, looking at Daniel, "We would _never_ abuse a child." Daniel didn't look up.

The Chases owned a string of antique shops, and second-hand bookshops. Vera explained, "The bookshops are mine, the antique shops are James's, but the interests go together quite well. Our sources of stock are often the same."

James said, "Her bookshops, - she calls them 'Antiquarian' bookshops, which I've always felt is a little pretentious."

Vera said firmly, "I specialise in rare books. They are not just cheap junk! The description is accurate."

James grinned, "Yes, dear."

Harry said, "You have some fascinating books in the library here."

"The best are in the secondary library, which I keep locked. Some of those are irreplaceable."

Most days, while the boys were at school, the Chases did some work, usually a few hours visiting various shops, or going to sales and auctions. But the hard work had been put in years before. These days, each shop had a manager. The Chases didn't work very hard at home, either. They had a couple working for them, coming in most days, Colin who did any maintenance, as well as the gardens, and Elaine who kept the house immaculate, and cooked dinner for them five nights out of seven. Vera and James Chase were free to indulge their interests, which currently centred on finding a son to dote on, and eventually to inherit their accumulated wealth.

Harry took a back seat in the next few days, as the Chases bent over backwards to ensure that Daniel enjoyed the stay. Daniel quickly became more comfortable with them, and started to talk more freely.

Thursday evening, he was talking about his last birthday, "We had a cake at dinner, and afterwards, any who wanted stayed in the dining hall, like a party. It was good."

"Is that what they always do at the Home?"

"Always. There were a few last month. Ricky had a birthday."

Harry nodded casually, "I was sixteen."

Daniel said slyly, "Someone told me you cried the first time."

Harry reddened, and said indignantly, "I did not cry!"

"Jason told me when he found me crying in the early days. He said that everyone cries sometimes."

Vera asked quietly, "Why did you cry, Ricky?" Harry cast a look at the door, wondering how rude it would be to leave.

James said, "It's not a disgrace, you know."

Harry was still blushing, "It was only just… I wasn't sobbing or anything. Just that it was the first time I'd had any sort of a birthday party. There were presents even. Chris gave me a shirt." He chuckled, "Shoplifted, but I didn't object that time. I thought it was incredible that he'd do that for me."

"Does he still do that?"

"I've persuaded him that it's a poor long-term strategy."

"Had you really never had a birthday party before?"

Harry used a dismissive tone, "Not all families do that sort of thing."

There was a brief silence, and then Daniel started, "There was a time when a lot of the boys were comparing pasts. How they got whipped, or beaten, or starved. I didn't know whether they were lies or not, but then Ethan stripped off his shirt, and he had scars from whippings."

James asked, "Were you there that time, Ricky?"

Harry shrugged, "I had no scars to show off, and I wasn't really interested. Ian and I went down to the beach for a while, instead."

Daniel said quietly, "Some of the boys were sexually abused as well."

Harry looked at Daniel. Surely he wasn't going to tell them. It would be a sure way of putting them off.

The Chases looked at each other, and Vera asked gently, "Dan, did your parents treat you right?"

Dan nodded, and said, his voice suddenly muffled, "I never realised how lucky I was. I never said thanks. Even Dave. He used to look out for me, and I didn't even notice until he was gone."

Vera said, "I don't think ordinary kids in ordinary families ever think of actually thanking their parents. It's only when something happens."

"Ricky's an orphan too."

"Ricky?"

"I was very young. I don't remember them."

"So who brought you up?"

Harry used that same dismissive tone that usually put an end to questioning, "Just relatives."

The Chases took the hint, and Vera asked, "You like the Home, Ricky?"

Harry smiled, "I like the Home. Ross Davies. I think he must be about the _best_ man I've ever met. Not namby-pamby, but he honestly tries to do his best for each of us, even the ones who don't seem to have much to recommend them."

"What do you mean?"

"Boys who are raised in a family where the men drink and get violent, or where crime is a way of life… You can't expect them to suddenly behave the way someone like Dan behaves. They don't know how."

"You behave reasonably."

Harry shrugged, "I haven't destroyed anything yet." He was uneasy when the attention was on him, and asked, instead, "Dan, do you want a swim before bed?"

The Chases had an indoor heated swimming pool. Harry thought it almost the best thing there, second only to the extensive library. Daniel shook his head, but James Chase said, "I'll join you. I should use the pool more. I don't get enough exercise."

Harry and James went to change, leaving Daniel with Vera. Daniel commented, "He loves the water. He told me once that he couldn't swim when he first arrived."

"He's an interesting boy."

"He takes notice of us younger ones, like a big brother."

"Will you come visit us again? Maybe this time on your own?"

Daniel said shyly, "I guess."

"You don't need him to look after you."

"I guess not."

"Do they pick on you at the Home, Daniel?"

"There are always fights now and then. Ricky says it's just sorting out the pecking order, the same as any schoolyard. And no-one started picking on me until I was better. I was pretty banged up when I first arrived."

"Do you still get bullied?"

"Ricky said to stand up for myself. Hit back, and then you're not a victim, and you'll get left alone."

Vera was shocked, "That's not very civilised."

"That's what Ricky said. He says it's just the way it is."

"Was it like that at your old school?"

"There were always a few kids who had no friends, the skinny, weedy ones, or the brainy ones, you know."

"I guess I do know. Girls are more subtle, but there are always some who get ignored, not invited to parties, and so on."

"When do we go back, Mrs. Chase?"

"James takes you to school tomorrow as usual, but you take the bus back to Kreighley afterwards. I thought we'd told you."

"Yes."

"Would you like to stay two more days, go back Sunday instead?"

Daniel beamed, "Yes please."

The large indoor pool was luxury. The surrounds were beautifully furnished, and the whole area was kept comfortably warm. James did a few laps quite slowly, then went to the ladder to pull himself out. He knew nothing about Ricky, only that Davis had told him he was well behaved, and would probably give Daniel confidence. He wondered if he'd been abused. There was the hint that he'd never had a birthday party, but aside from that, he'd said nothing about his life before Kreighley. He studied the boy as he swam. Quite a good stroke, and he seemed untiring. He had a beautiful build. Had he been abused? He hadn't noticed any scars but he hadn't been looking.

Harry continued swimming. He wasn't thinking about Daniel or his possible adoption. Instead, he was thinking about his next History Assignment. He liked it that Mr. Harrison always gave them a choice of topics. The young man said it was more interesting for him that way, as he hated marking thirty identical essays. He laughed to himself, remembering Professor Binns, droning away and putting everyone to sleep. He couldn't imagine such a poor teacher being tolerated at Traynor High. No Snape type either, picking on students until they lost all confidence. No Trelawney, who was quite simply balmy. No Sorting into houses based on personality, and then fostering the division. They had 'Houses' at Traynor High, but they were only relevant to sporting teams.

Traynor High was a perfectly ordinary Comprehensive High School, and it was a far better school than Hogwarts, with all its thousand years of tradition. Muggle life was more civilised than the ways of wizards, and he had a sudden memory of Voldemort inspecting a 'stable' of well-trained sex slaves, boys and girls. Muggle slaves. It was stupid to miss being a wizard. They were a barbaric lot. Why should he ever go back to being Harry Potter? That kid had never had much of a deal.

He turned in the water, holding the side, and yawned. Time for bed. But when he emerged, James Chase seemed to be studying his body. Harry faltered, then narrowed his eyes.

Later, in bed, James said to Vera, "I'm glad they're to go back tomorrow."

Vera was surprised, "He's lovely. I asked him to stay until Sunday."

"We'll have to say they can't."

"Why?"

"Ricky. He propositioned me. He said I could have him if I pay him some money. He told me he was quite accustomed to it, and he could see I wanted him."

Vera was shocked, and sat up in bed. "He thought you wanted him?"

"I don't know why. I was looking at him, I guess. I was wondering if he'd been whipped or beaten."

"He has a beautiful body, and he's a goodlooking boy."

"You know I've never been attracted to anyone but women."

"Dan said that some of the boys had been sexually abused."

"I don't want him here. It's not that he seemed worried when I refused, but I wouldn't know how to act around him."

"Daniel, though?"

"Dan's a nice kid."

"I want him to be our son."

"For a little while, I was wanting to know Ricky better. Now I do, and I don't like it."

There was a long silence, and then Vera said, "Probably Dan will have already told him that they can stay two extra days. Maybe it's not his fault. Maybe it's like he said, that kids who don't grow up in normal homes, they just don't know how to behave."

"You think he might _expect_ a man to want to buy him?"

"Maybe… Maybe he just doesn't know. Maybe he even thinks it's the way to get him to like you, maybe so we'd give him a home."

"Vera…"

"I don't want us to hurt his feelings. What he said, and what he didn't say…. That boy did not have a Mum and Dad like Daniel had."

James sighed, "He apologised for embarrassing me, and then he just acted as if he hadn't said anything. But how am I supposed to treat him now?"

"Do the same. Act as if nothing happened. He apologised, so forget it."

James said grudgingly, "I suppose we can't send him back, and keep Daniel."

"There's no need to ask Ricky again. Maybe if Daniel does want someone else, we could ask the one he was talking about, Jason."

Harry was surprised that he hadn't been returned in disgrace. He didn't suggest he should go back. Mr. Chase's refusal had been very definite, but he just wanted to be sure. Maybe the man would think about it, and then there would be a change of mind. He'd definitely been looking at his body. But James Chase avoided looking at him at all in the next couple of days, while Vera also seemed uncomfortable with him. Daniel didn't appear even to notice, basking in the attention of the pair.

Saturday night, and Daniel asked, "Ricky, are you awake?"

"I'm awake."

"They're really nice, aren't they?"

"They seem very nice."

"They want me to come for another visit, maybe for two weeks, but they say I should come alone."

"They probably don't want me to get my hopes up. If you want someone with you, ask if you can bring Jason instead. Just tell him you'll kill him if he steals something."

"He'll probably steal something anyway. He always does."

"Big things?"

"Usually little things, things that people don't even miss. I don't know why he does it."

"Ethan?"

"I might just come by myself, I think."

"I'm sure you'll be fine by yourself."

Daniel said teasingly, "But with money for a taxi and phone, just in case."

"One should always have that."

"They like me, I think."

"I think so, too."

***chapter end***


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 6**__:_

It was cold and wet, a Sunday in December. Jason Reed sat in a shallow cave on the beach, looking broodily at the rough sea. After a while, he inspected the expensive fountain pen he held. Carefully engraved on it was 'James Chase, for his 21st birthday.' Both Dan and Ricky had tried to impress on him that he must not steal from the Chases, but they didn't know. When you didn't have much, and never would, you had to have reminders. It had been a great day, a trip to London, and they'd seen Buckingham Palace, where the Queen lived. There had been a circus, and they'd eaten in a restaurant. He'd wanted to take something from the restaurant, but he hadn't. He'd never thought to eat in a restaurant. He was going to lose his best friend. It was obvious now. Dan had been there a week already, and he was still there. It had been just for the excursion that Jason had been invited to join him.

Harry stood and regarded him, then dropped to the ground beside him. Jason said, "It was good. I liked it."

"Dan?"

"He'll be spending Christmas with them. I don't think they've asked him if he wants to be adopted yet."

"They were good to you?"

"Yes. I didn't steal any money, even when she left her handbag out."

"Good."

Slowly, Jason showed him the pen, "It's for my box, you see."

"Like when you stole my hawk pendant?"

"Like that. No-one will ever want to adopt me, and anyway, my father's still alive, and maybe my mother. I don't actually know."

Harry handed back the pen, "There's a Sunday market this morning in town. I have some money if you want to come with me. Maybe you can buy him an adoption present, or maybe just a Christmas present for now."

"How will we get there?"

"We'll have to walk."

Jason started talking again as they walked. He'd stayed a day and a night, the day very full. By the time they'd covered the first mile into town, Harry knew many of the details of the visit, but then Jason was quiet. They entered the outskirts of the town, and Jason said wistfully, "He's going to have a proper family. There are aunts and uncles and grandparents. Cousins as well. Some cousins were going to come for dinner this week, and he'll be meeting them."

"I didn't know it had gone that far."

"It's not definite yet, but you can tell."

****

Ross Davies had his feet up, reading the Sunday paper. There was a sensational story about a religious cult. The authorities had taken the children from them once it became known that all the girls above the age of twelve, were 'wives,' either of the patriarch, 'Reverend Gabriel,' or his sons, irrespective of any blood relationship to the girls. There were a lot of children to be re-homed, and there was a good chance he'd be asked to help, at least temporarily. There were bound to be legal challenges to the removal of the children. The last time the authorities had intervened in a similar case, the children had been returned after three weeks with apologies and subsequent claims for compensation.

If Ruth did send him a couple? He'd leave them together for the time being, and ask Ricky to show them around and take an interest. Ricky was good at that, whatever his background was. Unless…. Could Ricky have been from the same family? The adult men were all bearded, and wore robes. Ricky had once given a detailed description of the man who'd handed him over for rape, and he'd had a long beard, and wore a robe. He couldn't remember the name, something outlandish. His original theory that Ricky had been used for sex had begun to seem less likely after the Travis Clark incident.

The phone rang. In the background he could hear squalls of babies crying, and the woman who spoke to him sounded harassed. "Three boys of thirteen? We're trying to keep them in twos and threes, but not all together."

"I have space for two, and I expect to lose one to adoption shortly. I can cope with three."

"There are girls of thirteen, with babies! Consider yourself lucky you only have boys!"

"Will they stay here?"

"Goodness knows. They're terribly resentful. One can only hope."

"Were the boys abused?"

"Hard to say. Most of the girls submitted to a medical examination, but the older boys all refused. They seem healthy enough, though none of the babies has ever seen a doctor. No vaccinations, and three are retarded, probably inbreeding."

"I was just wondering, Ruth. Remember Ricky Drayton? Could he have been from that family?"

"Ricky had black hair, didn't he? Quite a pretty boy?"

"Black hair, green eyes, highly intelligent."

"These nearly all have brown hair, a few gingery. It's not likely."

Ross said, "He still hasn't given the slightest clue where he comes from."

"Something will have to be sorted out soon. He needs valid identity papers. He must be growing up."

"He's sixteen. I have reminded him."

"Well, I don't have time now. I'll get you the names and papers tomorrow morning. Expect them in the afternoon, provided they don't simply take off."

There was some rearranging of bedrooms, but when five boys of thirteen, fourteen and sixteen arrived, there were beds waiting for them. There were two in Jason and Daniel's room, two in the one room which had been empty, and the sixteen-year-old was put in the room shared by Harry and Chris. The younger ones clung together, but the eldest glowered around furiously.

Two hours later, Harry went to Mr. Davies, "Can we get rid of Aaron? Without him, I think the others will settle down."

"What are they like?"

"They're terrified of us, and more terrified of Aaron. Goodness knows what they've been taught about the outside world."

"You don't know anything about a similar sect, do you, Ricky?"

Harry grinned, "Is that your latest theory?"

Ross chuckled, "My wife suggests that you're the product of genetic experimentation, aimed at producing geniuses. Except that you're not quite a genius, so they threw you out."

"They didn't want me to leave, but I left evidence to make it seem I was dead. They believed it, all but a couple."

Ross froze, and then said quietly, "Are you ready to tell me about it then?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't. Only that. I think probably they know that I'm still alive by now, but I'm hoping they don't care any more."

"But they might. And then you could disappear again."

"I'm expecting to finish High School here, then be awarded a private scholarship that will support me through University. I've not yet decided what to do about identity papers."

"This scholarship you speak of. Something from your old life?"

"There's one who cares about my welfare, the one you've referred to as a Protector."

"What's his name? Could I speak to him?"

"He's not a very approachable person. I used to loathe him, but he's the only one…" He shook his head suddenly, and asked, "Aaron?"

"He hasn't done anything wrong. We can't just 'get rid of' him."

"I explained to Jason that they know nothing of an ordinary world, nothing even of things like TV. He's going to try and look after them a bit, while I try and keep Aaron away from them."

"Do you think you can?"

"He doesn't think of himself as a child. I don't know."

Two days later, Aaron disappeared. Jason taught the others to play computer games, and refrained from teaching them shoplifting. Daniel returned, but it was to be for a week only. The adoption was in prospect, but there was to be a three month trial period before the formalities would be put into motion. Jason picked at him for days before throwing a punch. Daniel fought back, but Jason had far more fighting experience, won the fight, regarded his sobbing friend, and cleared out.

Harry prowled the dingy London neighbourhood in which Jason had grown up. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was sure he was here somewhere. He found him the next day, standing among the crowd of tourists outside Buckingham Palace. His hands were in his pockets, and he was staring at a family of tourists, a Mum and Dad, and three children. The mother clung tightly to the hand of a child around five. Two boys stood next to their father, and one gave him a scared look. Jason looked like a tough, with his husky build, his new leather jacket, probably stolen, and a black eye. But Harry felt his desolate loneliness and envy. He was like all the boys at the Home. He wished for a family.

When Harry tapped him on the shoulder, he whirled, fists raised, and then said incredulously, "Ricky!"

"The boss is worrying. We should call him, and tell him you're OK."

Jason admitted, "I took the jacket off someone on the train. I was cold."

"I don't suppose it's practical to return it."

Jason said aggressively, "His Dad will probably just buy him another one."

"I guess. Are you coming home, or do you want to do some shopping with me first?"

"What do you want?"

"A jacket like yours. I'm cold, too."

"Have you got money? Could we go to the zoo?"

"Yes. Will I make the phone call?"

"I guess. It's better than here."

Later, both wearing leather jackets, and leaning against the fence that separated them from a herd of deer, Jason said, "I was being stupid. It just made me so jealous."

"I've never had a proper family, but one day I will. I want a wife to love, and I want lots of children. I think about a grandson I might have. His name is Paul, and he has four grandparents, and two sisters, and he has dozens of cousins, none of whom beat him up." He grinned, "He gets Christmas presents under a tree, first thing Christmas morning, the way it's supposed to be. And each year, his parents argue about whether they want to go to his parents for Christmas dinner, or her parents, because both sets of parents want them."

"And no-one gets drunk, and no-one hits anyone else."

"Absolutely not."

"Have you ever been drunk, Ricky?"

"Is that what you want to do? Get drunk?"

"No. Drunken men hit. My father's in prison. I could go visit him."

"Do you want to?"

"His sentence has years to run. There's no danger of him having me again. I wouldn't mind seeing him."

The surly prison guard looked down his nose at the two boys, and said, "Visiting hours are nearly over, and anyway, you have to give notice."

Harry exerted his magic, and said persuasively, "Please. We've come a long way."

Jason's father was dressed in plain clothes, but looked healthy and well fed. He didn't have the haunted look that Sirius Black had worn, and Harry reflected again that Mugglekind was more civilised than Wizardkind. No-one was wicked enough to be sentenced to Azkaban, though he presumed it might not be as bad now that the Dementors were gone.

The visit didn't last long. Neither Jason nor his father seemed to know what to say to each other, but at the end, Sam Reed said, "Thanks for coming, Jase."

It wasn't until later, on the night train back to Cornwall that Jason asked, "How did you find me, Ricky? London's a big place."

"I don't quite know. I went to the Old Docks area first, where you told me you used to live."

"I was there for a time. It seemed so depressing."

"I didn't take to it."

"What are we going to say about our jackets?"

"If you like, we'll say we met a man I know, and he bought them for us."

"You do tricks, don't you? That's why you've got money."

"That's what a lot of people think, including the boss sometimes. But there's no way I'd submit to that by choice."

"What then? Are you going to tell me?"

"No. I'm going to try and work out how the bunks fold out."

"Have you never been on a night train before?"

"There's a lot of things I've never done."

Jason looked at him curiously, but stopped asking questions. Ricky was different. He seemed so self-contained, but then he said something that showed that maybe he was not so different. He had money, and sometimes he knew things that he couldn't know. And _how_ had he found him? It should not have been possible. He was glad, though. He hadn't wanted to spend another night on the streets, not in the middle of Winter.

Ross Davies met them at the station, and drove them home. The boys were grateful he asked no questions, but Jason volunteered that he'd just wanted to visit his Dad. Ross nodded, "It's Christmas. We all think about our families when it's Christmas."

Ross Davies understood exactly why Jason had fled. Jason was an unattractive boy, whose speech and manners reflected his upbringing. It was no wonder that he'd been jealous of the middle-class boy from a good home, even if Daniel had lost his original family.

****

Vera Chase said quietly, "He wants both Jason and Ricky to join us for Christmas dinner."

"What do you think?"

"They're important to him."

"I'd prefer to remove him altogether from the influence of Kreighley boys."

"Unless we change his school, he'll still see them."

"I guess."

"We wanted a son to be close to us. We can't just send him to boarding school."

"Jason speaks so badly."

"He can't help that."

"And Ricky… I heard something recently. He accused one of the teachers of sex abuse. What if he accuses me? You know you can never live down that sort of smear!"

Vera was immediately concerned, "If he does, the adoption will not go ahead. It's like the social services people _want_ a reason to say no."

James Chase was feeling acutely uncomfortable in Ross Davies' office the next day, but he and Vera had decided it was the best way to protect themselves from unwarranted accusations. Ross asked anxiously, "Have you changed your mind about Daniel?"

"No, no, we do want Daniel, very much. But what if…"

"Yes?"

"I'm worried that Ricky will wreck everything. I can understand if he's jealous, but we want Dan, not someone like that."

"Someone like what, Mr. Chase?"

"A boy prostitute. And someone told me that he accused an innocent teacher."

Ross nodded, "Ricky did accuse a teacher, but he had no evidence to back it up. Only hearsay and his own word. He is not a prostitute. I think very highly of him."

"He propositioned me. He said he was accustomed to it."

Ross was astounded, "He _propositioned_ you? Could you be mistaken?"

"We were swimming, and he said, perfectly brazenly, that if I paid him eighty pounds, I could have sex with him."

"Then what?"

"I was gaping. It was so unexpected, and he assured me that he was used to it, only I was not allowed to be rough. Eighty pounds."

Ross swallowed, and admitted, "He's never revealed his past. It is possible that he was accustomed to it at one time, but he ran away from that, whatever it was. He assured me he does not do that sort of thing, and I believed him."

James shrugged, "I'm sorry. I was propositioned. It was quite clear. He didn't even seem embarrassed about it. Just like it was a straightforward business proposition."

Ross paused, "I know my boys are from poor backgrounds in the main, but Ricky… Since he arrived here, he's been only helpful with the other boys, and has never caused trouble."

"Accusing an innocent teacher, surely that's causing trouble. You know how mud sticks. What if he accuses me? Social Services won't let us have Daniel if there's any hint of something like that."

Ross said thoughtfully, "No, they wouldn't."

"There were no times when I was alone with him for any length of time, he couldn't make a false charge stick, but it's not necessary to do that. Maybe he wants to blackmail me."

"Did he say anything like that?"

"No. He apologised, and didn't refer to it again."

Ross drummed his fingers against the desk. He guessed he should have quizzed Jason and Ricky about those jackets, but had been too relieved that Jason had returned. Maybe Ricky did do tricks, and now Jason was too. Maybe that was how they'd paid for the jackets. They looked like real leather, and real leather jackets were not cheap. He finally asked, "Do you wish to be present while I question him?"

"Yes, please. I need to know. Vera suggested a lawyer, but that's like I'm admitting guilt. Daniel… He's a nice boy. My wife adores him."

"Daniel's a good boy. I doubt if you'll ever have reason to regret taking him in."

When Harry was called to Ross's office, he saw James Chase straightaway, and greeted him politely.

Ross said, sounding profoundly disappointed, "I am astonished at you, Ricky. I believed what you said, you see. But Mr. Chase told me."

"What did he tell you, Sir?"

"That you offered him sex for money."

Harry nodded, "I did do that. I'm sorry I upset you, Mr. Chase."

Ross said, "Mr. Chase is very worried that you plan to accuse him, like you accused the teacher."

Harry regarded Ross, and said deliberately, "I have never, and _will _never accuse an innocent man. It hurts me that you should think that I might."

James said, "The teacher must have been cleared, as he is still employed."

Harry nodded, and raised an eyebrow at Ross, "Is there something else?"

Ross leaned forward, "Ricky, why did you proposition Mr. Chase? Surely you can do without the money."

"I wanted to make sure Dan would be safe with him."

James said incredulously, "You were _testing_ me?"

Harry grinned wryly, "You made quite sure never again to be alone with me. You passed the test."

James sat, and shook his head, "You don't know how disturbed I was."

"I don't see why. All you had to do was decline."

James shrugged, "I don't know. Just the whole thought of sex between males gives me the shivers."

Harry said soothingly, "Well, don't worry, Mr. Chase. I'm hardly about to force you."

"You said you were accustomed to it."

"I'm not really." He gave a sidelong glance at Ross. It hurt that the boss had lost faith in him so easily. He asked politely, "May I go now?"

"Would you have had sex with him if he'd agreed?"

"No. Dan and I would have been packed and gone before he knew what had happened."

"And then I suppose you would have ruined his reputation."

"Probably not. I made the approach, not him. Even if he had agreed, it doesn't mean that he would ever have thought of it on his own."

"Dan is to be adopted. How do you feel about that?"

"Dan's a good kid. I'm glad."

"Do you envy him, Ricky?"

Harry gave a wry half smile, "The library, the swimming pool, I enjoyed. But I'm too old to have parents. I wouldn't know how to handle it. I am not envious."

Ross was reassured, but Harry was thoroughly annoyed when he was required to submit to a blood test for STDs, and furious when Jason emerged with fists clenched and a red face after intensive questioning and a physical examination. It had been touch and go whether he would submit or start throwing punches. Neither of them was invited to Christmas dinner at the Chases.

Two days before Christmas, Ross called Harry to the office again, to say that the four cult boys were to visit their mothers the following day, and had asked if he'd go with them. Harry said coolly, "Sorry, Sir. I have other plans for tomorrow."

Ross regarded him, frowning, and then said, "Ricky, I am sorry I thought it necessary to have you and Jason tested."

Harry asked coldly, "Do you have the slightest idea how it hurt to have you think I would have led Jason to _that?"_

"My actions are scrutinised. I had no choice."

Harry said scathingly, "You must have had a choice. Jason nearly cleared out again."

"Please, Ricky. You know the cult boys are frightened of being made to go back. They _asked_ for you. They trust you."

"Do _you _trust me?"

Ross hesitated, and Harry sighed. "I'll go. I presume there'll be social workers present, or something like that. I can hardly fight off the Reverend and his so-called Elders if they try to take them."

"Of course. It's a supervised visit. Jake will be driving, and I'm going as well. Just the mothers and any small children they have with them. The older ones are dispersed."

"What time, and what do you want us to wear?"

"The meeting is in Exeter. We go by bus, straight after an early lunch. Kreighley uniform, the cult boys as well if they'll consent, whatever they want if they refuse."

"Chris might enjoy the trip, or Jason."

"You can ask either, but it is unlikely to be very interesting."

Harry shrugged, "It's an excursion. I'll see what Jeremiah says before I ask anyone." Jeremiah was the oldest of the 'cult boys.'

Chris declined the dubious treat, but Jason said eagerly that he'd like to go.

The reunions of mothers and sons the following day were uncomfortable. None of them appeared to know what to say to each other. A few children of five and six were present, standing huddled together, very shy. There were no babies or older children present. The mothers looked at their sons with disapproval, and one shook her head, and asked accusingly what he was wearing. Noah said bravely, "Just ordinary clothes, like ordinary people were. Men are not supposed to wear dresses."

The woman said in a hard voice, "Our Elders wear Battheain robes. It shows they are close to God, unlike all of those around us now."

Noah shrugged, sulkily.

One of the older women took charge, and announced that they would have a prayer circle. Obediently, the members of the cult, young and old, drew together, males and females on opposite sides of the circle, and the woman started praying out loud. Young Noah stood stiffly, and cast a look at where Jason and Harry watched. Neither were mocking. The prayers went on interminably, one woman after another taking up the words, mostly in something like a chant, but sometimes more like a plea. For the welfare of their Family, and especially for the continued health of their leader, the beloved Reverend Gabriel, inspired by God.

Jeremiah raised his voice, but spoke in formal tones. "I am Jeremiah. I am the oldest male of our Family present. I claim the right of prayer leader."

His mother looked at him incredulously, but when he looked at her challengingly, she dropped her eyes to the floor, and inclined her head slightly. Obedience to men had been beaten into her very early in life, and now her son was acting as a man. Jeremiah spoke in the same chant as the rest of them, but this time the words were that God should show them the correct road to take, and what was right. He wound up quite quickly, with what appeared to be a formulaic ending to the meeting, participants stepped back, and Jeremiah looked to where plates of goodies waited on a table.

One of the social workers raised her voice, and asked, "Refreshments anyone?"

Jason grinned, "Yeah!"

One of the women said quietly, "We do not partake of worldly treats."

Jeremiah said casually, "Women do not speak when men are present." He indicated to Harry and Jason, "You are honoured guests. Please make your selection first." His example was followed by the other boys, and then another boy of about six, asked, "Me, too? Can I have a cake?"

The women stood silently at the back of the room. Only Noah crossed to one of them, and spoke for a little while.

Perhaps the social workers thought that a feast was the best way to wean the cult members away from their odd beliefs, as it was an excellent feast. Jason and Ezekial became deeply involved in a discussion about a computer game, Jacob started talking to the younger children, and Harry congratulated Jeremiah on ending the prayers. Jeremiah said, "I've seen men do that before. I didn't think I'd get away with it."

"They seemed frightened of you."

"Reverend Gabriel says that men of the Family can discipline women and girls whenever necessary. Only his own wives are exempt, and then only the favoured young ones."

"Why do any of the women put up with it?"

"I don't know. I think it was my sister, Cassie, who dobbed us all in. She was nearly twelve, and was selected for the Reverend. It was a great honour. Everyone told her it was a great honour. She disappeared two weeks before her birthday, two weeks before the wedding. And then a few days later, mobs of policemen took us all away."

"It has to be a good thing for the girls. How do you feel about it?"

"Better to be free, eat cake and drink soft drink."

"How long do you want to stay here? I was thinking about the shops."

"I have no money, only the envelope."

"That's only for the train trip home if you need it, together with phone money and the address."

"I know what you said. In case we're silly enough not to know when we're on a good thing."

"Or if you get taken."

"If they try and take anyone, it'll only be the girls. They don't need more men."

"How many mature men are there?"

"The Reverend, three Elders, and three younger men, including Aaron. Quite a few younger men leave when they turn sixteen."

"Would you have?"

Jeremiah was quiet, staring into the distance, and then sighed, "Probably not. I think sometimes that those ones, they didn't just leave."

"What do you mean?"

Jeremiah muttered, "I don't know."

"Will I ask Mr. Davies if we can see the shops?"

Ross remarked, "I told you that food makes for happier boys."

Ruth said, "And I still maintain that you have the easy job. Dealing with teenage mothers, and dozens of small children..." She shook her head, and then dropped her voice, "There are rumours of some older women who simply disappeared. Unwanted, maybe disposed of."

"Give my Ricky another week with the four boys we've got, and they might be willing to talk."

"We placed three in London Central, and two days later, two were gone, and the third found badly beaten, and too frightened to say a word."

"I lost one too, remember."

"I'm not surprised."

She turned the subject, "That's Ricky?"

"That's Ricky. He's unhappy with me at the moment, because of the blood tests."

"It had to be done, another in a couple of months, a third two months after that. AIDS doesn't show up straightaway."

"He has a girlfriend, one of the locals."

"All the more reason."

"I suppose."

"The other?"

"Jason Reed."

"Isn't he the other I said to test?"

"That's him. I'm not sure if Ricky was angrier about himself or Jason. He said he'd never lead anyone to _that!"_

"It's something I learned from my predecessor, - Believe them, sure, then check anyway."

"The doctor told me he thought Jason was about to attack him at one stage."

They stopped talking when Jeremiah and Harry approached, and when they asked, Ruth said, "Are you sure you don't want to stay longer, Jeremiah?"

Jeremiah shook his head, and Harry said, "They're all ready to go. We asked them. The mothers don't care and they _really_ want to see the shops?"

Ross raised his eyebrows at Ruth, who nodded. Harry said casually, "Only Jeremiah has ever handled money. As an essential life skill, maybe they need some pocket money."

Ross said to Ruth, "Kreighley has none to spare. We're two above our limit."

"I'll authorise it, twenty pounds each, including your helpers, since they gave up their Christmas Eve."

Harry grinned, "Thank you, Mrs. Grierson." Jeremiah echoed him.

Ruth nodded, "Why don't you get the others organised, while I have a few minutes with Ricky here?"

Harry asked, "Mrs. Grierson?"

"In the other room."

When they were alone, Ruth said firmly, "You're sixteen now, Ricky. I want to know your real name, and where you come from."

"My name is Ricky Drayton. I have no intention of telling you anything else."

"Ross told me you're a good boy, especially that you're helpful with new boys."

Harry said nothing, only looking wary. Ruth asked, "How am I to provide you with documentation when we have no records?"

"Jeremiah told me there was a fuss because most of them had no birth records. You could organise me at the same time as you organise them."

"Name?"

"Ricky Drayton, date of birth, 14th October, 1981."

"A name is important. Your history, where you came from."

"I said from the first my name is Ricky Drayton. You should accept it."

"You had a fright early on, remember, and provided a different name." Harry said nothing, only glanced at the door.

Ruth said softly, "And then you disappeared. We were all very upset."

Harry gave a sudden mirthless crack of laughter, "Not half as upset as I was."

"You disappeared from a locked house. There were other occupants. There were no signs of forced entry. Would you care to tell me what happened?"

"All I can tell you is that I went to bed, and woke up somewhere else."

Ruth's voice dropped further, "Where did you wake up, Ricky?"

"I only want to stay at Kreighley until the end of the school year. Please allow me that."

Ruth softly threatened, "If you refuse to tell me your true name, I am not sure what I can do."

Harry said quietly, "I didn't think you would throw me out." Ruth waited for capitulation. Harry asked, "How about if I provide a birth certificate?"

"Your birth certificate would naturally solve all problems."

"Is the interrogation over then?"

"It is over." Harry walked out.

He'd have to return to Knockturn Alley. He'd have his old passport changed as well. It was in the correct name, but the birthdate was not what he wanted. He'd been thirteen when he'd bought that passport, and had thought it advisable to be three years older. Knockturn Alley. He'd best go in disguise, in and out as quickly as possible. He wouldn't ask Snape. If Ross Davies and Ruth Grierson couldn't be trusted to care about his welfare, there was no reason for Severus Snape to do so. He was feeling miserably let down. First Ross Davies didn't trust him, and now the one in charge of the whole system of Children's Homes was willing to throw him onto the streets.

Meantime, Ruth Grierson was feeling thoroughly satisfied with the effect of her little bluff. It was endless trouble to organise paperwork to establish identity for someone who officially didn't exist.

***chapter end***


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 7:**_

It was the 28th December, and Harry Potter was at his own home, the comfortable manor home that had belonged to his ancestors. For the first time in years, he dressed himself as a wizard, except that instead of a wand, he was armed with his knife. There was a lightening charm on his money bag, but that was a standard feature on a wizard money bag. Using gold as currency would otherwise be quite impractical. Harry thought it was impractical anyway. It would be a better idea to adopt Muggle currency.

He felt uneasy about this trip. By comparison, fronting the Dursleys had been easy, even though Aunt Petunia swore she didn't have his birth certificate and never had had it. He supposed he could apply for one. Some wizard births were not registered with Muggle authorities, but he thought that his Muggle-born mother would have registered him. He planned to have two fully documented identities, Harry Potter, former wizard, and Ricky Drayton, Muggle. He still wavered between his desire to live openly in the world of magic, or to live in a more civilised world. Not that Muggles were always more civilised. The murder of poor little Cassie Bates, presumably by the Bates Family Elders, proved that.

He shrugged himself into his cloak, put the hood over his head, and cast a charm to ensure that it stayed put. After a brief hesitation, he cast another charm to ensure his face appeared to be in shadow, whether or not it was. The charms could be dropped with a thought, or would wear off quite quickly. He was very conscious that he would be viewed as a threat if it was known he could do magic. If anyone knew the full extent of it, he was sure he would not be allowed to live. Around his neck was the flying horse pendant, just in case. If he needed to, he would call for help.

He apparated to Knockturn Alley and was surprised to find it bright and welcoming. It had been a place that respectable people avoided, but it appeared to have had a change of personality. There were still specialty shops, which traded in 'Rare and Valuable Antiques,' which probably meant items of Dark Magic, and Potions Shops that stocked potions ingredients of dubious origin, some frankly illegal. Sam's little shop was still there, as it had been when he was thirteen. Thinking about it, Harry was quite proud of himself that he'd had the cunning and courage to defy orders, and do what he thought he needed to do.

His errand was accomplished without incident, though Sam said he would need to change some older records, since records of 'parents' were needed as well, even if only a notice of death. He would need to come back to collect it. He'd retain the passport as well, in case it needed to be modified to be compatible with the birth certificate. Sam added, "I'll put the standard charms on of course, maybe less strong than usual so nothing is suspected." The standard charms ensured that wizard documentation would not be queried by Muggles, and influenced officials to be helpful rather than obstructive.

Sam finished, "Come back on the 2nd January, and I'll have the birth certificate ready."

Harry said, "Sam?" He was always known as Sam. It was 'Sam's Shop.' He didn't need to complete the sentence.

Sam said, "Strict confidentiality always. No need to fear that others will hear of any business done with Sam."

"Thank you, Sam."

Sam nodded. He knew who it was, but only because he remembered providing the original passport for the boy. He still wore the Binding Bracelets. He'd spotted one when a sleeve fell back slightly, but in any case, everybody knew that his magic was gone. A good thing on the whole. Wizards with too much power were apt to become dangerous. But Harry Potter was harmless and should be left in peace.

Harry gave a sigh of relief when he returned to his home. He cast off the cloak, put away his knife, and scanned copies of the _Daily Prophet,_ the _Informer,_ and _Witch Weekly, _before going over investment reports. He really needed some training in accountancy or wealth management. Maybe he should do a year's technical training in those subjects before going to University. He could stay at Kreighley a year longer that way. He wanted to keep an eye on Jason, on Chris, and on Lionel. The cult boys too. Jeremiah still called himself Jeremiah, but the others were Neil, Zack and Jake, and had asked to change their surname as well. They didn't want to be Bates any more. There was no need to feel guilty about accepting charity. He'd put enough money in the 'Tom Foundation' to support himself and a few others.

After the paperwork, he practised throwing his knife for an hour. It was Wintry outside, but he had an indoor room suitable for training. He didn't have a gun yet, but he did have his knife.

It was left behind when he returned to Kreighley. He suspected he would be thrown out if he was found with a knife. It was illegal to wear a knife.

There was a date with Cathy that evening. Her parents were going out.

****

Ruth Grierson phoned Ross Davies, who assured her that the cult boys were doing well, and would be attending school once the holidays were over, a remedial class to start with. They could all read and write, but their other education had been spotty, with glaring omissions. And then she asked, "Has Ricky produced a birth certificate yet?"

Ross was startled, "He's said nothing about a birth certificate."

"He said he'd provide one when I suggested we couldn't keep him otherwise."

"You threatened to throw him out? Ruth!"

"I wouldn't really. Just that he needs an incentive."

Ross said slowly, "He is very afraid of those who had him. I do hope you haven't caused him to put himself into danger."

"He strikes me as a quite capable young man. I don't see why applying for a birth certificate should be dangerous."

Ross said doubtfully, "Maybe not."

"We'll wait and see, shall we? He might come up with something. At least we might find out if he's given us a false name."

"You told me there was no such person as Ricky, Rick or Richard Drayton with that date of birth. Or not British."

"That's right. There was a search for possible relatives."

"Perhaps his birth was never registered, like the cult kids."

"Maybe. Meantime, best if you don't say anything to him about it. Wait and see."

Ross sighed, "You're the boss."

****

Dan said, "Please Auntie Vera. Jason's my best friend, and Ricky's like a big brother. I know there'll be other kids my age, but I really want them. Jason told me once that he hated parties, because it meant that drunken men would have fights, and belt kids if they got in the way. It'd be good to show him that parties don't have to be like that, wouldn't it?"

Vera asked curiously, "What does Ricky have to say about parties?"

"I can't remember him saying anything about parties. He almost never says anything about his life before Kreighley."

"He's a strange boy."

"Him and Jason. _Please,_ Aunty Vera."

"I'll speak to James."

Harry was with Catherine. They'd been fondling, but Catherine's parents were in the house, and they hadn't done anything to get themselves into trouble. Catherine's Mum called out to them if they wanted some Christmas tarts, really an excuse to remind them not to get carried away. They separated, and went to the kitchen to avail themselves of the treat. Mrs. Taggart asked, "You going with Cathy to the New Year's Eve party tomorrow, Ricky?"

"Yes, Mrs. Taggart. I'm to meet her here at nine."

Catherine said awkwardly, "It's at Jimmy Baxter's house."

"You told me that."

"I thought you might not want to go."

"Jimmy's all right, mostly."

"Yes…."

"Is something wrong?"

Catherine blurted, "His parents say you're not allowed to come. I'm sorry, Ricky."

Harry shrugged, "We can do something else."

Catherine looked away. Harry frowned, "Cathy?"

"It's the big party. I want to go."

Mrs. Taggart glanced from one to the other, and said brightly, "Well, I'll just take John his tart."

Left alone, Harry was watching his girlfriend, who was beginning to turn red. At last he sighed, "I'd best leave." Catherine said nothing.

Harry poked his head in the lounge-room, and said, "Goodnight, Mr. Taggart, Mrs. Taggart. Thank you for dinner."

When the invitation came from the Chases, he asked, "May I bring my girlfriend, Mr. Chase?"

"If you wish. Unless her parents want to pick her up, she can stay the night, like you and Jason, we'll give you a day out New Year's Day, and we'll return you all that afternoon."

"Thanks, Mr. Chase. I'm looking forward to it."

"No misbehaviour, mind. I don't want her parents annoyed with me."

Harry laughed, "No sex in your house, I promise." He was feeling lighthearted. Catherine liked parties, and she was a bit of a snob. Surely the home of the Chases would reconcile her to missing the Baxters' party.

He rang her straightaway. By the time the phone call concluded, abruptly, he didn't have a girlfriend. It wasn't quite clear who'd dumped who, but he wasn't interested in continuing with a girl who was willing to go to a party from which he was excluded. It was a hurt, but not a heartbreak. His affection for Catherine had only been what he'd had for Mandy, and for Lynette, and Christine and Isobel before that. He had a brief thought to the bracelet he'd given her for Christmas, but shrugged. He was a rich man. She probably had no idea how much the pretty thing had cost.

He checked with Jason, who hesitated, but then accepted. Jason didn't believe in missing any chance of an excursion. Harry warned, "You already have something from the Chases."

"I'll be good. Did he say where we might be going?"

"They may not even have decided."

"We'd best tell the boss."

"Do you want to do that?"

Jason grinned, "You still mad with him?"

Harry acknowledged, "A bit."

James Chase was apprehensive about having Ricky and Jason, although Vera was more optimistic, and only pointed out how happy Daniel was to see his friends again. James said sourly that he'd be seeing them every day once school resumed.

He softened a bit later when he picked up the boys. They were both polite and respectful, and Jason was bubbling over with enthusiasm, very eager to know what they were doing the following day. "A surprise," he said.

Jason didn't want to let it alone, and James was relieved when Ricky gave him a slight shake of the head that resulted in his dropping the subject. The extra help was handy in setting up for the party, as well. "We'll be having around sixty people," Vera said. "Relatives and friends, and quite a few young people have accepted, probably because we promised that the pool area would be warmed for a pool party."

James added, "I doubt if the adults will care much about a pool party. They'll be mostly in the Billiards room, which we've cleared, and the large lounge room."

Jason said, "It's a cool house!"

Daniel asked, "What's your favourite part, Jason? Mine's the garden."

Jason grinned, "The formal lounge-room. Leaning back in the big arm-chair, feet up, pipe in mouth. You'd feel like bloody Henry the eighth."

Harry said, "Bloody only because he killed a lot of his wives."

Jason laughed, "That's right. I wasn't _swearing_. I'm not allowed to swear here. Ricky says so."

Vera said warmly, "We want you to feel comfortable, Jason. Don't be self-conscious with us."

"I reckon I'd better be self-conscious with your guests. They're not used to kids like me."

"So maybe a little bit self-conscious."

"Any gate-crashers or anything, you should call on me and Ricky. We'll toss them out for you."

Vera said gravely, "We'll rely on you for that then. But I don't think there'll be any gate-crashers."

The boys made themselves useful shifting furniture, carrying glasses and dishes of food, and decorating. The Chases were going to a lot of trouble. There were even spare swimmers, plus floral leis, sarongs and 'lap laps' available for the guests who wished to appear Hawaiian. A pile of colourful towels. The pool room was filled with tropical flowers, though artificial, and some real potted palm trees.

As anticipated, the younger ones gravitated to the pool room. For a time, Harry and Jason made themselves useful pouring drinks, and offering around refreshments, while Dan was kept close to one or other of the Chases, being shown off to various relatives.

At ten past eleven, Jason said, "Excuse me, Mr. Chase, but some fucker just poured a whole bottle of booze in the Punch. Then a real little bottle as well."

"In the other room?"

"Yes."

"Where's Ricky?"

Jason grinned, "Fully occupied."

James said apprehensively, "Doing what?"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Chase. He's not doing any harm."

"Can you point out who spiked the Punch?"

Jason indicated, "The big one over there. I think he's the same one that Ricky had to tell to Eff off."

"Eh? Why?"

"It's the hair, I think. Men hope he's gay."

"Is he?"

Jason laughed, "No."

James was occupied for a little having a quiet word with the man whom Jason had indicated, removing the spiked Punch from the pool-room, labeling it prominently as 'Strongly Alcoholic,' and providing a fresh, non alcoholic supply.

He was still vaguely worried about what Ricky might be up to, but relaxed when his brother pointed to a couple half-hidden behind some potted palms. Troy Chase said, "It's Amy. She's a friend of Christine's."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-three, the same as Christine. She works at the vets."

"Ricky's only sixteen." He laughed suddenly, "I didn't think I'd be worrying about _Ricky's _virtue."

"I only wish I was that successful at sixteen!"

"I suppose it's harmless." It was certainly a lot better than seeing him with a man, and eighty pounds in his pocket.

It was getting close to the count-down to midnight. James briefly spotted Ricky again, wearing a brightly coloured lap lap, chest bare, his long hair loose, but tidily combed, and supplying a grouping of young people with soft drinks. Amy wasn't the only one who looked at him with appreciation.

Jason was also bare-chested, wearing just a lap lap over his swimmers. He was with two girls in bikinis, and doing his best to persuade one or other to get a bit more friendly. One was supposed to be in the midst of a passionate kiss when the clock ticked over to the new year. Ricky had had a non-stop series of girlfriends since he was thirteen, at least according to Chris. Jason was fourteen. He thought it was time.

Vera Chase said softly to Daniel, "Are you happy with us, Dan?"

Daniel said, "Yes, Aunty Vera."

Vera raised her eyebrows at James, who joined her. She smiled at him, put an arm around Daniel's waist, extended a hand to pull James close, and said, "We'll be a family. This year about to start, we will be a family."

James ruffled Daniel's hair, "A family?"

Daniel nodded, and looked at the floor. He wasn't sure if he was more happy or more embarrassed. He glanced in the direction of the pool-room. Part of him would have preferred to be there. It wasn't that he didn't want to be a family with the Chases, but he was fourteen! Too old to be cuddled.

The goodbyes started shortly after midnight. For the older people, it was a hardship staying up late, although the younger ones, led by a nephew of James, had loud music pumping in the pool-room, and no-one was looking like they were thinking of bed, - or not for sleeping. Daniel slipped away from the Chases, and joined Jason, who'd had the dubious success of getting brief pecks on the cheek from both the girls he'd been with. Harry was still very involved with Amy, but the company was thinning rapidly, as parents sought out their children. Amy had come with Christine and her parents. She gave him a last kiss, and whispered something in his ear that had him grinning.

By two, the last guest was gone, and Harry looked around, and ordered Daniel and Jason, "Drinks removed, food put away, glasses and plates in the dishwasher, not the crystal."

Vera intervened wearily, "Just the food and drink tonight. We'll do the rest tomorrow."

The boys were quick and efficient. Whenever not watched, Harry used magic to help it go quicker. Mr. Chase sat in a chair, yawned, and watched with approval. Daniel came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a cloth, "That do, Ricky?"

Harry nodded, "That'll do."

"Did you wind up making a date with Amy?"

"The day after tomorrow."

James said, "A bit old for you, isn't she, Ricky?"

Harry shrugged, "It's not like we're intending marriage, and she has her own car, even her own flat. I reckon I'll stick with her just as long as she's willing to put up with me."

"What happened to Catherine?"

"She prefers to look for a more socially acceptable boyfriend. Amy is not as particular."

"Does she know how old you are?"

"She doesn't seem to mind." He rose, politely asked if there was anything else wanted before bed, and retired. He had a room to himself, while Daniel and Jason were sharing.

The Chases had thought they were tired. After a half hour waiting for sleep that didn't come, Vera asked softly, "Are you asleep?"

"I still haven't wound down, I guess."

"The boys were good."

"Troy was asking about Ricky, what we know about where he came from."

"What _do_ we know?"

"Virtually nothing. Daniel said he was orphaned young, and we know that he didn't have birthday parties."

"He knows his way about a kitchen, and cleaned up very efficiently."

"Did I tell you what Jason did?"

"What?"

"Bloody Billy Higgins spiked the Punch in the pool-room. Jason told me before any damage was done."

"Thank goodness he did, then."

"He also said that he made a pass at Ricky."

"Billy! Surely not!"

"We won't have him here again. Daniel's just as goodlooking as Ricky, and a lot more innocent. I won't have him exposed to that sort of thing!"

The talks strayed to other gossip, became more desultory, and then Vera heard her husband start to snore. She settled down, feeling soothed by the rhythmic sound. It was always easier to sleep to that soft sound. Only on rare occasions did he get loud enough to disturb her.

Two hours later, she blinked open her eyes. Her husband was already awake. He said, "The boys are arguing, I think. I'll go."

Vera rose as well, "He might be having a nightmare." They could hear a muttering, rising and falling, but when they peeped into the younger boys' room, they were both sound asleep. James said, "Ricky then."

A voice was suddenly more clear, pleading, "Don't take me. Don't lock me up, _please!"_ It subsided again. The Chases looked doubtfully at the closed door of Ricky's bedroom, not knowing whether to enter. The boy begged again, pitifully, "I never told anyone, please leave me alone," and then he screamed, finally waking himself up.

Softly, James Chase pushed open the door, seeing the youth sitting on the side of the bed, trembling, his head down, and tears on his face. Vera went straight to him, and took him in her arms. Harry stiffened, and Vera soothed, "Hush, it's all right now."

Harry tried to say that he was fine, and they could go back to bed. James watched from the corner. Vera caressed a hand over his hair, and hugged him closer. Harry couldn't help himself. He started to sob helplessly, crying as he hadn't cried since he'd been very small. The Dursleys always punished if he cried.

He woke early, relieved that no-one else seemed to be stirring. He wished he could just disappear, but that would be too rude after the Chases' kindness. Instead, he busied himself cleaning and tidying, a tiny alarm spell set to alert him if anyone else appeared. There might be questions if they saw how quickly and easily things became more orderly. There was a broken glass, one of the fine crystal set. He hesitated over whether to repair it, but in the end only gathered up the pieces and put them aside.

His alarm went, just a tiny noise in his head, and when Vera Chase looked in, he had the dishwasher going, and was wiping the benches. She smiled, "Thank you, Ricky."

Harry said anxiously, "I did all the crystal by hand. I know they're not supposed to go in a dishwasher."

"Someone's taught you well."

Harry ducked his head, he'd never felt so self-conscious in his life. He mumbled, "About last night, I'm awfully sorry."

"Because you had a nightmare? Dan told me weeks ago that a lot of the boys had nightmares."

"My room-mate never does. I'm accustomed to having a shoe thrown at me if I make too much noise, not to someone being _nice."_

"Do you have nightmares often then?"

"Not often."

Vera changed the subject, "We're going to Plymouth. They have a big festival on New Year's Day."

Harry beamed, "Great."

Vera smiled, "It's a bit far, so we go by helicopter!"

"Wow! Jason will love that!"

"You?"

"Me, too. I've never been in a helicopter."

Vera asked seriously, "Have you had a very limited life, Ricky?"

"I'm only sixteen. There hasn't been time for much."

Jason appeared then, yawning, and hair standing on end. He said politely, "Good morning, Mrs. Chase," and then grinned at Harry, "Who did you dream was after you? I heard you yell."

"I dreamed you'd cloned overnight and there were suddenly six of you. Enough to make anyone yell in horror!"

Vera asked, "Ever been in a helicopter, Jason?"

The boys had a wonderful time that day. Jason refrained from teasing Harry any further about the scream that had woken him, and Harry managed to put aside his embarrassment at crying in the arms of Mrs. Chase. He remembered it, though. He had no real memory of Lily Potter, but there was the feeling of someone comforting him. Still, he was sixteen, seventeen really. He couldn't possibly really yearn for that feeling of being mothered.

***chapter end***


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

**

_**Chapter 8**_**:**

January the 2nd. Harry went for his usual early morning run, along the beach to begin with, since it was low tide, then through Traynor, and back by the road. Both Chris and Ian were with him, though Chris had dropped well back by the time they ran past the bus stop outside the Home.

Jeremiah hailed him as he went to breakfast, "Do you mind if me and Zack come running with you from now on?"

"I don't mind, but you might have to only come part way to begin with. I'm working on my endurance."

"Jason tells me you run about ten miles every single day."

"Not every day, and not usually that far. I have to practise running faster as well. You never know when running fast can save your skin."

Chris said wryly, "I'm still panting, but I'm doing it for different reasons. Weight training as well. I want to look good enough to acquire girlfriends as easily as Ricky does."

"They dump me easily too, though. I've lost both Mandy and Cathy just in the past few months."

"And acquired a new one I hear."

Harry smiled with satisfaction, "She's picking me up at seven tonight." He glanced at Chris, "So don't get worried if I don't make it home tonight. She has her own flat."

Jeremiah said, horrified, "But you're only allowed to do that if you're married."

"Some people say that. Some people miss a lot of pleasure in life."

"I guess."

They were in line, helping themselves to substantial breakfasts from the servery. Jeremiah said, "It looks like Noah and Jake might be returning to their mothers."

Harry turned to him, surprised and concerned, "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not since the Reverend Gabriel and two of the Elders were arrested. Not just Cassie, but it seems there were some bodies found at one of the places we stayed at a few years ago."

"So they were killers?"

"We were right to be frightened of them, I guess."

"If I don't see them myself, remind them to keep the envelopes safe and secret. They should not be afraid to come back if needed. And if the Family doesn't know about Kreighley here, they should not tell them, just in case."

Jeremiah said soberly, "Not very trusting, are you?"

"Not very."

Chris asked, "Are you going back, Jerry?"

"They might make me. Maybe not Zack. They don't know where his mother has gone."

Kreighley boys came and went. It was not uncommon that boys would come for a time, and then be returned to their families. The professionals believed that children belonged with their parents whenever possible.

By nine in the morning, Harry was at Potter Manor, carefully dressing as he'd done previously. He was to collect his birth certificate.

Sam greeted him casually, "I have it ready. It costs a little more than I said as the records had been previously investigated, which meant that I needed to make some changes. Simple enough. I made the birthdate 4th October, instead of 14th October. Your parents were married, but died shortly after your birth. Then you lived with your only surviving grandparent. She died when you were five, but by that time you were no longer living with her. You vanish from the records."

"No school records?"

"I can make them if needed."

"No need." He studied the birth certificate, checked the passport, and then nodded, "How much please, Sam?"

Sam named the figure, and Harry thanked him sincerely, as he counted out the gold. He didn't want to live on his own. His house always seemed so lonely. He no longer belonged in the world of wizards. Much better to be a Muggle. He hesitated when he left Sam's shop. Of course it was better to be a Muggle, but Diagon Alley was fascinating. He was well disguised, wasn't he? It was just around the corner.

Half an hour later, he screamed and collapsed, as his right leg folded under him. A strutting wizard stood over him, and jeered, "Harry Potter. What a _pleasure _ to see you again."

Harry rolled to see his attacker. His eyes were filled with tears of pain. His leg felt awful! Peter Liddicombe raised his wand again, and said, "Harry Potter, laughingly awarded the Order of Merlin, former wizard, you do not deserve to live."

He aimed his wand, but Harry threw his knife, the aim and force helped by magic. Liddicombe made an odd choking sound, and died, a sharp knife embedded in his heart. Harry bent over his leg, appalled to see the boneless bend of his thigh. This was not an injury he could take to a Muggle hospital. His hand shaking, he reached for his silver horse pendant, and twisted the wings.

Severus Snape snapped at the St. Mungo's receptionist, "Harry Potter, where is he?"

The woman looked coldly at him, and said, "The end of the line, please. There are people ahead of you."

Snape seethed, but did as instructed, at least until Vance McKenzie appeared, saw him straightaway, and said to follow him.

Harry was lying white and very still. He was in a ward with three other patients. McKenzie said, "He's not in trouble. There were witnesses. Liddicombe attacked first, and was apparently about to kill him, when Harry threw a knife that killed him first."

"Self-defence."

"Yes."

Snape regarded the youth, "How bad is he?"

"As I told you, the right thigh bone was vanished, and has to be re-grown. The healer says he'll be incapacitated for at least two weeks, and can't be seen by Muggles for probably a week after that."

"I'm surprised he's sleeping."

The one in the next bed was watching interestedly, and asked, "Is he really Harry Potter?" Snape glanced at the headboard of the hospital bed. The name was clear, 'Harry Potter.' It would have been better to keep it quiet but it was obviously too late now. Snape said, "I'd best talk to the healer."

"He's a Muggle now, isn't he?" The patient was ignored, and said snidely, "He had to be stunned. He wouldn't take the potions."

Healer Smethwick was brisk. "He's in a partial body-bind, pelvis and all of his right leg. He has to remain quite immobile for the first few days."

"Did he give trouble about taking the potions?"

"He was cooperative to begin with, though very tense when I drew my wand. He took the _skele-gro_ without trouble, but insisted the Calming Potion was not required. I used a Twilight Spell instead."

"He's had bad experiences with potions."

The healer shrugged, "He has to do what he's told, or his leg will not heal. Regular calming potions, Skelo-gro, and if necessary, spells to relax muscles. There could be problems with cramping."

"Is he in pain?"

"Muscles, tendons, nerves, blood vessels, all attached to and depending on the femur. Suddenly the bone is gone. It's a tremendous shock to the system."

McKenzie commented, "It used to be a common way of incapacitating an opponent before deciding what to do with him. It's a miracle he was able to retaliate."

Snape said, "A knife, you said."

"Yes. He's obviously been practising, maybe for years."

The healer asked, "So how many does that make it that he's killed?"

Snape said coldly, "He cannot be blamed for defending himself when attacked."

The healer shrugged, "Is there anything else you wanted to know?"

"Not for now."

"Good. I'm a busy man."

McKenzie and Snape were left together. Snape asked, "A guard? Even the healer sounds like he could be vindictive."

"The Minister spoke about wasting resources. I am not permitted to provide a guard. It's why he's sharing a ward. He's less likely to be attacked if there are witnesses."

"Why was he here? How did he even enter Diagon Alley?"

"He said he had an errand."

"Gringotts then?"

McKenzie shrugged, "He's not a criminal. I did not subject him to an interrogation."

Snape went back to sit beside Harry. He said quietly, "I am here, Harry. You are safe."

Harry blinked and opened his eyes, but his gaze wandered, reminding Snape that he'd been hit with a Twilight Spell. He asked, "Why did you come here without me, Harry?"

Harry's eyes found him, "Severus."

"What were you doing?"

Harry's eyes suddenly glistened with tears, "I just wanted to have a look at the Pet Shop. It's not fair."

Snape shook his head, "There's no such thing as fair."

Harry took a long, shuddering sigh, "No."

When he looked back at Snape, his gaze had cleared a little. "I killed him. The others, I scarcely remember, but him... I threw the knife, and then he was dead."

"It was self-defence. There is nothing to feel guilty about."

"I guess not. It was just ugly."

"Is there anything you want me to do for you?" Harry's eyes were closing now, and he mumbled something about not needing anything. Snape regarded him for a moment, and then strode away to talk to McKenzie again. He was too vulnerable where he was.

****

Ross Davies said patiently, "James, I know he's an interesting boy, but he would not like me telling you anything of his history."

"He had a nightmare. He was begging someone not to take him."

"It is not uncommon. Many of my boys have nightmares. Sleepwalking sometimes, bedwetting sometimes. Self-harm, even. By comparison, Ricky is perfectly stable, in spite of his past. Just that he has nightmares."

"So what is his past? All I know is that he lost his parents when he was a baby, and Dan told me that."

Ross shook his head, "I could tell you more only if you were interested in adopting him, or at least fostering him."

James regarded his fingertips for a moment, and then said, "Maybe I am. He's hard to know, but I can give him a better chance in life."

"He wants to go to University. Would you be willing to support him through a Bachelor of Arts?"

"If we took him, but I haven't even spoken to Vera."

"What would Daniel feel about it?"

"He was making hints, that Ricky is an orphan too, and wouldn't it be nice to have a big brother like he used to have."

"Ricky's a highly intelligent young man. At school he's working at a level a year above his age, - assuming he's told us his true age. There is reason to believe that Ricky Drayton is not his real name."

"Is that why he was not among the list of boys available for adoption?"

"It's not even in the records that he is an orphan."

"If we took him, university would not be a problem."

"He speaks of some sort of a private scholarship, but I have no faith in that idea."

James said again, quite softly, "Please tell me what you know of him."

Ross looked away, thinking. That 'private scholarship' that Ricky had spoken of, - it would not come without payment. If Chase would take him as well as Daniel… Chase had been so horrified when Ricky had appeared to offer him sex. As an adoptee, even as a fostered child, he would not have to pay James Chase in that fashion. With sudden decisiveness, he went to a locked cupboard, and returned with a file. He flipped through it, and found a newspaper article, the one which spoke of a boy in his early teens being found stumbling along a country road, naked, and with injuries from rape. He glanced over it, lay it in front of Chase, and remarked, "An article like this is quite often the first information I have of a potential new boy. Social Services rang me a few days later. They wanted to keep it very quiet where the boy had been taken."

James Chase read the article carefully, and looked questioningly at Ross, who said, "He adamantly refused to answer questions about his past. We had him for a very short time, and then he spotted someone he knew. He was terrified, and we moved him to a secret location and under a different name. He vanished a few days later, was missing without trace for ten weeks, and then turned up again in the night, very thin, exhausted. But he said he thought they didn't want him any more. Only recently, he told me that he'd left evidence to suggest that he was dead. They thought he was dead, so no-one was looking for him."

Chase said heavily, "They."

"We have no idea who they are except that there is reason to believe they are powerful people."

"When he was having a nightmare, he was saying things like, "Don't take me… I never told… Don't lock me up."

Ross said gravely, "He has indicated to me that he considers it possible he could vanish again. I still don't understand why someone might want him if not for sex, but he denies he was ever used for sex, except for that one time."

"At the party, a man made a pass at him. Jason told me. He didn't mention it himself."

"So did he go with him?"

"He told him to eff off according to Jason."

Ross smiled slightly, "I've never actually heard Ricky swear, though I suppose he does. All teenage boys swear, like it's a badge of maturity."

"Ricky doesn't appear to need to assert his maturity."

Ross closed the file. "There's really nothing more I can tell you at this stage. Only that he's well-behaved, honest and responsible."

"That implies that the accused teacher was indeed guilty." Ross said nothing. Clark had been cleared by the school. Without further evidence, to say what he thought would be slander.

James Chase said quietly, "I'll talk to Vera, and then maybe ask him over again, maybe for a week or so to begin with. But if you do think he's voluntarily offering sex for money, please tell me. It may be immature, but I do cringe at that thought."

Ross said deliberately, "To the best of my knowledge, Ricky has not traded sex for money." It was not the whole truth. Ross thought it very likely that he might be trading it for protection. Maybe this 'Protector' knew who he really was, and was helping him hide from the others. He shook his head. He really had no idea. Ricky Drayton had always been a mystery.

****

Later that day, Snape was back at Harry's bed, regarding him with a frown on his face. Tentatively, he put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry? Wake up." There was no response. Harry's breathing was deep and even. He still lay flat on his back, his right side rigid from waist to toe. Snape tried again. He needed to know what Harry wanted him to do. He'd be safer at Hogwarts, but he didn't want to arrange that without permission.

A young man in a bed on the opposite side of the room, said, "Professor Snape?"

Snape glanced at him, "Mr. Jordan, isn't it?"

"Lee Jordan. About Harry. He asked the healer to give him potions that would leave him more alert, in case he was attacked. He said he wanted a chance to defend himself."

"And?"

"His healer agreed, Harry took the potion, and hasn't woken since." Snape grunted, still regarding the sleeping face of his Demter Ward. He nodded briefly to Jordan, and strode out.

Within a half hour, Healer Smethwyck was replaced with Healer Anthea Jones. Snape hoped she'd be more understanding. He returned to Harry's ward, asked Jordan what he was in for, and more importantly to him, how long he would be there for. Jordan shook his head, "Just one more night, I hope. One of Fred Weasley's joke products misfired."

"If he has any visitors other than me, will you call staff? I'm going to make other arrangements, I think."

The one lying next to him, said, "If you want to keep him alive, I suggest you do it as quickly as possible."

A little later, Rufus Scrimgeour sat on a chair next to Harry, regarding him contemplatively. Only a Muggle, though a notorious one. He'd been supposed to have had the potential to be a powerful wizard. It was why the Dark Lord had wanted him. That Voldemort had died… Was that an indication of how powerful Harry had been? He reached across, and stroked over the boy's face, then fingered his hair. He hadn't bothered with Muggle slaves for years, not while his wife was alive. Now she'd died… He had an important position in the Ministry, head of his department. It may have been illegal, but it was an open secret that many wizards liked to keep Muggles for sex. No-one was ever successfully prosecuted. Only a few of the female Aurors even tried. To have Harry Potter… He grinned. He liked the idea. His wife would have been furious, but his wife was dead. He picked up a limp hand, and examined the Bracelet around it.

Lee Jordan used his signaller to call the nurse. The nurse rebuked him. They were far too busy to be bothered with calls for no reason. Jordan said, "Professor Snape thinks that Harry is in danger."

The nurse gave an indifferent look at the youth, Scrimgeour still beside him. "I doubt it."

Scrimgeour smiled at her, "He's not in danger from me. I like him!"

By the time Jordan got a message to Snape, Harry had been moved to a private room, and had a twenty-four hour guard. They were not Aurors. They were Scrimgeour's employees. Healer Smethwyck was back in charge of his treatment. When Snape objected, it was pointed out that Harry Potter was a legal adult, and he had not the slightest authority to interfere in his treatment. He was not permitted to visit.

Snape returned to Hogwarts, seething, but unsure how to proceed. Rufus Scrimgeour had a great deal of influence. If Severus Snape inconvenienced him, he would be put out of the way. Minerva McGonagall sympathized, but shrugged. There was nothing they could do. She was accustomed to the idea of favours done, corruption, and even frank vice, usually glossed over with a sham of respectability. And maybe Scrimgeour _was_ simply protecting the one who'd rid their world of a threat. Scrimgeour had been a powerful fighter for the Light in his day.

January the 3rd. Harry opened his eyes to the feel of someone gently caressing his face. He felt good. He was floating. There was no pain, and some-one was caring for him.

He closed his eyes again, and Scrimgeour smiled. He had beautiful eyes. Very gently, he put a finger out and touched one of the closed eyelids. Harry sighed, and shifted his shoulders in the bed. Scrimgeour asked gently, "Are you hungry, Harry? It is time you ate."

He supported him himself, as the nurse fed him by spoon, a little at a time. It was the first food Harry had been given since the attack, and he woke further as the meal progressed. There was a kind voice that told him how well he was doing. Only that he should not try and move his legs, not at all.

The healer had emphasised how important it was that the muscles stay relaxed, especially for the first few days. Harry was under a semi-paralysis now as well as the partial body-bind, but a frightened person could struggle against spells. Any struggles now could retard the healing, even cause permanent damage. Scrimgeour wanted his boy perfect, except for the lightning scar that proclaimed his identity. It would be something special to have Harry Potter. He was a Fighter. The sudden death of Liddicombe proved that. Best if his Harry never thought about fighting. If he did, there were ways to reduce his effectiveness. The Ricca potion was very effective, inducing calm and docility. He'd give him that routinely with his food, probably through the first few weeks of use. There were other ways. He could be lamed, or maybe magically blinded. Some men routinely castrated their male slaves. Lucius had always said that it made them more docile, but Lucius was dead now, because of this boy, who looked so helpless. Beautiful. Scrimgeour's eyes drifted down to the sheet that covered him, and smiled. He wouldn't castrate him. A boy who enjoyed it as well was far more rewarding. He was a good lover. He'd be gentle. Harry would enjoy it.

Snape paced back and forth in McKenzie's office. McKenzie shook his head, "I know what Scrimgeour wants him for, and I can't do a thing."

"Harry Potter, a toy for a man like Scrimgeour. He should have been a great wizard!"

"At least he's a lot safer at the moment, and getting the best care possible."

Snape protested, "He was happy with the Muggles."

"That reminds me," and McKenzie reached inside his desk. "As far as I know, only a few Aurors know his assumed name, or where he lives. They know to keep it very quiet." He handed over an envelope, "He was carrying this. I think it's probably why he was in the area at all."

"Silly boy. I told him he had enemies."

"It would have been best if he'd never surfaced."

"To stay completely out of sight would have meant that he would have been deprived of his heritage."

"I've heard it suggested that his assets be confiscated, and then he'd have no reason to bother us."

Snape grunted, as he examined the passport and the birth certificate. McKenzie said, "Sam, probably. He went to the best."

"He organised himself a passport in this name when he was just thirteen. He was thinking about abandoning the wizarding world then."

"If he had, we'd still have Voldemort, no doubt."

"He'd still have his magic, and probably would never have been touched by a man."

McKenzie observed calmly, "He saved a lot of innocent lives that night."

"People are forgetting that. They talk about those who died, and lay it at his door."

Snape looked back at the birth certificate, and rose, "It might be best if I tell the Muggle Home that he's safe, and warn them not to make a fuss. He escaped before, he may again, and he needs somewhere to go."

******

Ross Davies glanced around the dining room. Still no Ricky. He hailed Chris Vale on the way out, Ricky's room-mate. But Chris assured him that as far as he knew, Ricky was fine.

"Was he in his bed last night?"

Chris hesitated. Ricky had said that he might not be back that night. Reluctantly, he admitted that he had a date, and had not returned.

Ross asked, "Who was the girl?"

"She's called Amy. I don't know her last name. He met her at the Chase's place."

"Tell me the moment he comes back please, Chris. I'm a little worried."

Ross was on the point of ringing James Chase to see if he had any information on the girlfriend, when Snape knocked on his office. When invited in, he handed the envelope to Ross. "Ricky Drayton's birth certificate. I suggest you keep it safe, as he is paying a very high price for it."

Ross was alarmed, "What's happened to him?"

"He is detained. I am the man you have called his 'Protector.' I will do my best to get him back to you safely."

"But what's happening to him?"

"He is being held. I am advising you mostly so that you will not cause more problems by broadcasting the fact. If you do, he will be unable to return. He could very easily be killed."

"Then what can I do?"

"At the moment, those who have him in his power do not know he is called Ricky Drayton, nor that he lives here. I want you to stay quiet, and wait."

"How long should I stay quiet?"

"As long as it takes. No matter what, he will not be back for a few weeks."

"What is your name? How can I contact you?"

Snape shook his head, "You cannot contact me. I will let you know if something changes."

"Is he injured? Sick, maybe?"

"He is detained."

Ross sighed, "He had nightmares about being taken again."

"Did you tell him to get his birth certificate?"

"Someone else did."

"It was a mistake."

Ross said dryly, "Obviously."

Snape nodded briefly, and left. Ross didn't follow. He suspected he was fortunate that any contact had been made. Nothing directly from Ricky. He wondered if he was hurt, and what state he'd be in if he did make it back. 'Detained,' and he was paying a high price, all because of a bloody birth certificate. He'd have to tell Ruth, but maybe not yet. Not when he wanted to yell at her for endangering one of his boys.

Harry dreamed. He was naked, and hands were touching him. There was the voice he was beginning to know. His muscles had to stay relaxed, it said, and that was why he was massaging in the lotion, very gentle over the right thigh, no pressure at all. He blinked at the face, just a reddish blur. It didn't look like a kind face, but the words were kind. He drifted away again. The Chase's spa. He thought he must be in a hot spa. He was warm and relaxed, and that had been the most warm and relaxed he'd ever felt.

Scrimgeour did not begrudge spending money on his new acquisition. Instead of foul tasting potions, there were the far more expensive variety, mostly tasteless, and mixed with the food he fed him periodically. Harry no longer knew whether it was day or night. Meals came every three hours, small meals, fed to him by spoon. Afterward he slipped back into pleasant dreams. Toileting was not a problem. Any wizard who enjoyed boys knew how to do the internal cleansing charm, and wet beds were easy to deal with.

Ross told Ruth Grierson that Ricky had gone missing again. It would have been his position if he'd kept it from her. It was not just a job, it was a life. He cared about all his boys, from feebleminded Lionel to young Mikey, whose intelligence was razor-sharp, yet who refused to keep himself clean. "The birth certificate," he said, unable to keep the condemnation from his voice. "He was doing fine. James Chase spoke of adopting him as well as Daniel Lye, and then he went after a birth certificate, and now he's some sort of a prisoner."

"Is he hurt?"

"I don't know. My informant wouldn't tell me his name, wouldn't give details, only said that he was detained, and was adamant that we should not make a fuss. The ones who have him know him by a different name. He can return only as long as they don't know where he lives."

Ruth studied the birth certificate, and remarked, "Ricky Lee Drayton, but the birthdate is not as he stated."

"Neglected and abused children sometimes don't know they even have birthdays. You can't deny that it appears totally genuine."

"I'll make investigations."

"Ruth?"

"I will not make his disappearance public."

Ross gave a sigh of relief, and remarked, "This man who came. He wore his hair long, as Ricky does. His dress was a little old-fashioned, black. He had… There was something about him. I believed everything he told me. The only thing, - his description matches the description of one who came for him very early, before he disappeared. He is probably the same man."

"It sounds like all we can do is cross our fingers."

Word quickly spread among the boys, that Ricky Drayton had been taken. Jeremiah and Zack, the remaining cult boys, were thoroughly upset, while Chris was furious with Ross, and started referring to him as 'The bloody Boss Screw' again. He very well remembered his friend's return the previous time, reeling exhausted into bed, and sleeping well into the next day before he woke. He'd taken weeks to recover. The boss should have kept him safe. All Ross could do was to try and reassure the boys that their best course was to simply wait. These boys were not the product of stable homes. There was a lot of fighting as tensions exploded. Jason was the worst. It was so recent that he'd teased Ricky about his nightmare, his cries of 'Don't take me.'

Daniel was oblivious, totally happy with his new family. He had no doubts. Once it was official, he might ask if he could call them maybe Mother and Father. Not Mum and Dad, who were somewhere maybe watching over him, but Mother and Father or maybe Mom and Pop, as the Americans did. No-one told him that Ricky was missing.

When school resumed after the Christmas/New Year break, the Kreighley boys were disruptive, antagonistic. Two days into term, Jason was suspended for a week for intolerable insolence, and then Ian stole a car and was away overnight. He wasn't caught, but returned, very quietly, and the abandoned car was recovered for the furious owner. He shared a room with Lionel, who blinked and looked more stupid than usual when a policeman asked if he knew if his room-mate had done anything naughty.

There was a sudden spate of vandalism, especially directed at Travis Clark, who took to hiding his car in a locked garage. He'd move on next year. He hadn't had anything to do with Ricky's disappearance, but none of the Kreighley boys would speak to him, and once he'd been hit in the back with a stone. The headmaster was suddenly regarding him with far more suspicion.

Christine Chase asked Amy, "So what happened to your cute and sexy new boy?"

"I was told that he was very sick. He's in a big London hospital, and can't have visitors."

"He didn't look at all sick on the day of the party."

"It's what the manager there told me."

"Could it be just a story? Maybe he ran away, like - escaped."

Amy said doubtfully, "The Home's not supposed to be like that. They say they're just ordinary boys with nowhere else to go."

"They would say that, though, wouldn't they?"

James Chase shook his head at his wife. "We can do without the problems, honey. We have Daniel, and we're doing great with him."

"He says there's something wrong at the home, and Ricky's not at school."

"Has anyone told him?"

"Not yet."

"I guess we'd better then. He has to be able to trust us."

****

Harry was still in that sleepy state. The body-bind had been eased, and his leg was no longer held rigid. The semi-paralysis had also been eased. He still had little control of his legs, but he had some. The bone was beginning to be stronger. Now, when Scrimgeour rubbed in the lotion, he didn't have to be as delicately careful whenever he touched the right thigh. It had been seven days.

Scrimgeour's hands strayed to touch briefly over his penis. Harry asked in a sleepy voice, "Am I to go home with you?"

"Call me Rufus. You are to come home with me, just as soon as you can use your leg without worrying about it breaking."

"It's still fragile, isn't it?"

"Very."

Scrimgeour covered him over again, and then sat next to the bed, running a long strand of hair through his fingers. The voice sounded even more sleepy when Harry asked, "When do I go home with you?"

"Not for another week."

"Rufus, why do you want me?"

"I want to look after you, Harry. You're to be my boy."

There was a long silence, before Harry asked, "What if I don't want to be your boy?" Scrimgeour spoke in just as soft a voice, but somehow it sounded different, "You _will_ be my boy."

"Do you want me for sex?"

"I am going to love you. You will be my boy. Do you mind?"

Harry shifted in the bed, and his voice was very sleepy, slurred, "I guess I don't mind. I've had lots of men. Ever since Voldemort. It's how I earned my living."

Scrimgeour kissed him, and Harry appeared to sleep, perfectly content. He opened his eyes suddenly, "What about the disease? I've got AIDS. You'll have to ask the healer to fix it."

Scrimgeour smiled slightly, "You have nothing wrong with you."

"Except a fragile leg."

"Yes." He kissed him again, and played with his hair. He loved the silky texture, even with just cleaning charms, rather than shampoo, he loved the feel. So unlike his own leonine mane.

Harry smiled, and turned his head to the caress. He breathed, "You will look after me."

"I will look after you."

Rufus Scrimgeour was very pleased. He wasn't unhappy about the boy's past as a prostitute. He assumed it was true, but wizards were very resistant to infections of every type, probably even that new one, AIDS. Physically, the boy was fine, as tight as a virgin. There had been plenty of time to thoroughly inspect the body that he was to enjoy.

Two days later, Vance McKenzie appeared in Snape's classroom just as a class dispersed, and said, "Severus. A stroke of luck."

Snape hurried the departing students, and closed the door. McKenzie waited, clearly impatient, but once the door was closed, he said quickly, "Scrimgeour had a fatal heart attack. We have to collect Harry immediately, before anyone else decides they want him."

"Any suspicious circumstances?"

"None, just a lucky break for Harry. Scrimgeour was talking to the healer, and his guard was close as well. He said how excited he was that he'd be taking his boy home, clutched his chest, and died. Just like that. It was in the hospital room, but Harry was asleep. They mostly keep him asleep or nearly."

"So how will we bring him?"

"He still needs a lot of care, but we need to get him away from there. I'll put him in a full bodybind, and apparate with him. You are still willing to take responsibility, are you?"

"Of course."

"Then warn the school nurse, and get a stretcher to the main gates as soon as possible."

Harry still pretended to sleep. He'd become very good at that. He routinely vanished the food he was fed, discreetly, from within his mouth. The first time he'd done it, he'd worried that he'd vanish his tongue or something instead. But it had worked, and now he was no longer under the influence of Calming and Compliance potions. He was very hungry, but it was better than being in the hands of Scrimgeour. The hero of the wizarding world, he thought wryly, and he was lucky to have escaped a fate as a slave. _And _without revealing that he still had magic. He thought he'd done very well. He'd killed again. He guessed it became easier with practice.

He was feeling vindictive as well. The nurse and healer had been happy to hand him over, and the guards obviously didn't care that he was to live as a slave. It was very convenient that he needed no wand or incantation to work magic. Snape had told him that he'd made a big dent in Britain's declining population of wizards. Maybe that was not a bad thing. He was sure now that he liked Muggles more. From now on, those wizards happy to hurt him would themselves be hurt. Wizards were not prolific breeders in any case, but now two guards and a male healer were sterilised, and a nurse under a lifetime anti-conception spell. He would have sterilised her as well, but the female sterilisation spell carried with it an unpleasant shrinking sensation. Better merely to do the anti-conception spell. It was unlikely that anyone else was sufficiently powerful to undo it.

It was difficult not to protest when McKenzie said to him that he was about to put a small spell on him, just so he could move him to safety. The small spell must have been a stunner, he thought, because the next thing he knew was Poppy gently, continuously, reassuring him. That he was at Hogwarts, but he was not a prisoner. It was just to keep him safe until his leg was strong. He was all right. Everything was fine, and after a while, he wouldn't feel so sleepy. He'd be walking in just a few days, his leg was coming on fine.

Harry grunted a few sleepy replies, and tried to turn on his side. The nurse gently restrained him, "In a few days. You still have to sleep on your back, and keep your leg still."

Harry mumbled, "Poppy…"

"Yes, Harry. It's me, Poppy. You're safe here now. You can relax."

Snape asked, "Do you think he's hungry?"

"They said there was a meal just before it happened. Scrimgeour used to like to feed him himself."

Harry debated within himself. He was fully awake, and very hungry indeed. But he'd killed Rufus Scrimgeour, who must have been an influential man to have the hospital staff jumping to do his bidding. Best if he stayed asleep and unaware for a while. Best if it seemed he hadn't been aware he was ever threatened.

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 9**__**:**_

Rita Skeeter had decided on her angle. Harry Potter would not be a villain. This time, he would be the poor child, victimised by Dumbledore, betrayed by his friends, bravely fighting against the unprovoked attack of a wizard. There was the picture of his face, asleep, with the words as the headline, _I only wanted to have a look at the Pet Shop. _

Ginny Weasley studied the picture. She'd been keen on him once. He looked older, almost a man. He'd been gone two years. A boy grew a lot between fifteen and seventeen. She wished she'd tried to help him, but it had seemed too hard at the time. He'd looked so vacant, and his guards were always there. His 'bodyguards,' they'd called them, except that they were more to stop him escaping than to stop others attacking him. And then he'd nearly died, and it just seemed like he hated everyone. There was no point thinking about him now. He was just a Muggle.

Professor McGonagall rapped a gavel on the lectern, bringing silence to the Great Hall. "As you've probably already heard rumoured, Harry Potter has been brought to Hogwarts for his own safety. It won't be for long. It is only because his particular injury cannot be seen by Muggle doctors. Anyone found attacking him in any way, verbally, magically or physically, will be expelled." She sat, her movements brisk, as a roar of excited comment rose in the room.

Hermione scarcely looked up. She didn't think she'd truly been happy since it had happened. Her first friend. It had been Harry who'd befriended her, much more than Ron, who had always irritated her. She very well remembered his attitude before the Triwizard Yule Ball, - only the pretty girls were worthy of his attention. As for herself, - she'd been just a convenient resource to help him with his work. He was a bit dim as well, she thought, but Harry had been so loyal to him. Neither of them had been loyal to Harry. The guilt still gnawed at her.

She glanced over at Ron, and winced. How could anyone tolerate sitting close to him when he ate? Even at seventeen, he ate like someone might steal away his meal at any moment. Lavender was ignoring him, talking excitedly to Dean and Seamus. It was the old debate, raised again. Had Harry killed Dumbledore? The evidence that he couldn't work magic because of the Binding Bracelets, that he'd been under guard in his own room, even that he'd nearly died that same night from an excess of Calming and Compliance potions, - all that was ignored. Ron wasn't saying anything. Like everyone else, he'd stopped talking about Harry after his bloodstained clothing was found in the Forbidden Forest, close to the Acromantula Colony.

She went to the Hospital Wing after the meal, but Professor Vector barred the door, and said firmly, "No visitors."

Hermione said, surprised, "I didn't think you even knew him, Professor."

"The teachers are taking turns keeping watch. When he's a little better, he might be willing to see you."

"Is he in pain?"

"Repeated cramping, and the thigh bone is still fragile, very easily broken."

"Thank you for telling me, Professor."

Vector smiled at her favourite student. She wasn't really telling her anything new. The newspaper articles had been quite detailed and accurate, she thought.

Hermione peered past her where there was a sudden flurry of activity, and a spell enunciated clearly. She wasn't familiar with the spell, but she knew Latin. It was a spell to relax muscles. Quite clearly, she heard Harry thank the nurse. To her surprise, he called her Poppy. Vector said firmly, "That is enough, Miss Granger. No visitors."

"Are there no other patients?"

"The ban extends to other patients, as long as Harry is here."

"You'll look after him?"

"Of course. We'll all look after him."

Hermione sighed and turned away.

Ten minutes later, Harry whimpered desperately, but forced himself to stay still. This acute cramping was dangerous. Poppy repeated the spell, then leaned forward, wiped his face with a damp cloth, and said, "I'm going to have to put you back in a full bodybind and paralysis, Harry. It will still hurt, but there's less likelihood of bone damage."

"What did they have me on at St. Mungo's? It wasn't happening there."

"They have not released the records."

Harry sighed, and shut his eyes. Maybe he should have left it a little longer before killing Rufus. He had not anticipated this.

Severus Snape visited a little later with another potion in hand. "Try this one. It may work better."

Poppy gave a worried look at her patient, and drew Snape further away. In a low voice, she asked, "Any progress?"

"Minerva is badgering them, but she can't get any information. According to them, none of their staff but Healer Smethwyck actually saw him this past week."

"Who was doing the nursing then?"

"I don't know."

"It's like a backlash from sudden withdrawal of potions, but without knowing what potions he was on…."

"You can bet they had him on Ricca potion, or something similar. I told you that Scrimgeour was planning to take him home."

"How men can do that…," Poppy said in a disgusted voice.

Snape said dispassionately, "It's always been done. You know that. It just seems worse to us because Harry's not some nameless Muggle."

"I had to immobilise him again, which will retard healing."

"Maybe the potion will help."

By the time they returned, Harry's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth bared in pain, panting in short gasps. His lower body was quite still. He could no longer move any part of his body below the waist, but the paralysis spell only affected voluntary control of his muscles. They could still cramp. He cried out suddenly, tears on his face. The nurse's spell relieved the muscle spasm, she did a scan, and then healed the fracture. The bone was too fragile, and when the strong thigh muscles went into spasm, it was pulled past its strength. This was the third time it had broken. Too many fractures of the femur would leave him crippled.

Snape helped him take the potion, and said, "I'm glad you've decided to trust potions again."

Harry said wryly, wearily, "Not much choice."

"You have people coming to see you. There's a pile of get well cards waiting to be read."

"Are they checked for curses?"

"Of course. And no-one will be allowed in with a wand except for those who are trying to protect you."

"I need my knife back. I don't like being helpless."

"I'll ask McKenzie."

"Good."

He closed his eyes, and Snape touched him gently on the wrist. "Things will get better."

Things did get better. Snape's potion helped, and when he accepted his knife back, and tucked it beside him in bed, he remarked that that helped as well. "I can't relax when I have no defences."

Ross Davies carefully read the letter from Ricky that Snape had presented him with. It was quite uninformative, only said that he was held up, and to please keep it very quiet that he was away. Ross asked, "Is he well?"

Snape didn't answer. He didn't fancy getting into a discussion about magically vanished bones. Ross asked instead, "Is he in danger?"

"He is in less danger than he was. It is vital that you do not make a fuss. It must not become known that he is Ricky Drayton."

"Why is he held? Why can't he come home now?" Snape was silent. Ross asked, "Are you going to tell me anything else?"

"Sorry. Nothing else."

Ross rose, "Would he like some changes of clothing?"

"Probably, but just ordinary clothes. Nothing that says Kreighley."

Shortly after, Snape left with a small case of clothing. A large car whisked him away. Vance McKenzie was helping.

Ross was just sitting and worrying when there was an urgent banging on his office door. Ross started up, but it was only Chris, demanding to know why he'd taken some of Ricky's things. Ross showed him the letter. Chris read it, and asked, "What do you think, Sir?"

Ross shook his head, "I think it's best we do as this man said, not make a fuss, and try and be patient."

Chris stared at him, and then whirled and stormed out. _Try and be patient!_ Someone was doing God knows what to his friend, and the boss only said to be patient. He started walking, winding up in front of Travis Clark's home. Maybe it was someone like Clark, except that this one didn't ask, he just took. At least Clark asked. He changed his mind about burning down the bastard's house, and headed toward the beach. There was something about the repetitive crash of waves coming ashore that made things easier to bear.

Daniel sat at a desk in the lounge-room at the Chases. He was doing his homework. He had his own study for the purpose, but insisted he could concentrate better when the TV was on. The Chases went along with the pretence. It was still too new, and if he liked to be with them, they liked him to be there. The conversation was desultory. That the Exeter bookshop was doing very well, but that another was languishing. Perhaps there just wasn't the population to support a specialist shop. That James had seen notice of a sale they should go to. Not looking at them, Daniel said, "Everyone reckons that Ricky's being used for sex. They probably won't let him go unless he lets them. Maybe they whip him or something if he doesn't."

Vera was sitting on the couch. She'd been doing that lately. A few times, Daniel had come and sat close, like a much younger child who liked to be cuddled by his Mum. She waited for him to make the first move, but she yearned to cuddle him.

James said, "We don't know that's what it is."

Daniel said hopelessly, "What else would it be?"

The Chases looked at each other, and Vera said kindly, "Mr. Davies is hoping he'll come back."

Daniel didn't look at them, but doodled on his notebook, "Will you still like him if that's what it is?"

Vera looked at her husband, not knowing what to say. James said uncomfortably, "If he was forced, I guess that makes it different. If he was just selling himself, I would not want to have him around."

"He just went out and didn't come back. He had a date with Amy, and wasn't there. He didn't go to them, they took him, and now they won't let him go." His voice had risen. He sounded on the verge of tears.

Vera put out an arm, "Come to me." Daniel went quickly to her, head down. This time, when she put an arm around him, he sniffled slightly, and leaned against her. He guessed he'd do what Ricky had advised, never, ever tell them that he'd accepted Clark's offer. He still hadn't touched the money, and he'd given the Nintendo to Jason. He didn't understand just why he'd agreed. He hadn't needed the money. Ricky had been so good to him afterwards, even inspecting and telling him there was no serious injury, and no need to tell anyone unless he wanted to.

Vera said, comforting, "I'm sure he'll be back, and if that is what it is, - it doesn't mean he's going to be badly hurt."

"If he comes back, will you ask him back here, maybe almost straightaway? We should show him we don't think he's bad just because they made him."

Vera looked doubtfully at her husband, who said, "Of course, if that's what you want."

Daniel said, "He was dead against Mr. Clark. If that's what it is, it's not by his choice."

"So it was true what he said about Clark?"

"As far as I know, he hasn't approached any of us since."

James was suddenly looking very serious, "What exactly? If it's true, he should be charged."

Daniel almost seemed to withdraw into himself, "It's only what people say. I don't know anything."

To Daniel's relief, they left the question of Travis Clark, and only promised that if that was what it was, they would not think the worse of Ricky.

****

Harry cautiously walked up and down the ward. He was to make sure and not bump his right leg, and he was only allowed to sit for a total of two hours a day. For the rest of the time, he was either to stand or lie down. Poppy watched assessingly, and asked, "Any pain, Harry?"

"It feels very odd, but there's no pain."

"Good. I was worried about those breaks."

A young girl called her from the far end of the ward, and the nurse glanced over, "In a minute, Suzy." She looked back at Harry, "Keep walking for another ten minutes, then you can sit and read for a little if you want."

"Thanks, Poppy. It feels good to finally be up."

Professor Flitwick was at the door, and when Hermione asked, he glanced over at Harry, who was looking out the window, at the far end of the ward. He said, "There's a rule that you leave your wand with me."

Hermione asked, suddenly hopeful, "Will he see me?"

"It will do him good to have a visitor. He's lonely, I think."

Before he could change his mind, Hermione handed over her wand, but when she approached Harry, she was slow, hesitant.

He didn't look familiar. His back was to her, but he looked so much bigger than when she'd known him. His hair was long, in the fashion of a mature wizard. It was regarded almost as insolence when a youth chose to wear his hair long. Maybe he thought himself entitled after Voldemort. It had only been two years. Surely he hadn't changed that much. Quietly, so as not to startle him, she said, "Professor Flitwick let me in."

Harry turned stiffly, carefully, and nodded, "Hermione." He didn't smile.

Hermione said slowly, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I don't know why I didn't revolt against him, - I should have realised, but he said…" She stopped, and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Snape told me you were tricked… It was a long time ago."

"Will you forgive me?"

Harry shrugged, "It was a long time ago." She looked appealingly at him. She had wanted absolution, but it had not been granted.

He asked, in an indifferent tone, "What do you plan to do with your life, Hermione?"

"I'm studying the subjects required to be a healer."

"That's good."

"What about you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. Hermione said encouragingly, "There are plenty of good professions you can follow as a Muggle, you know. You don't have to be a wizard to be happy." Her eyes were on the Binding Bracelets. She asked, "Where do you live now?"

"I have a place in Glasgow."

"You do? Who's looking after you?"

"I'm by myself. I've always been by myself."

"How did you manage afterwards? You must have had nothing!"

Harry shrugged, "Someone gave me some clothes, and I was free. It was better than here." He was becoming upset, but still managed to hide it. He wished she'd just go away.

Hermione asked, "Professor Snape? Did he help you?"

"He didn't help me get away. No-one I knew helped me get away. I didn't even know that man, and _he_ helped me." His voice had risen, and he abruptly stopped. It was stupid getting upset now. It was years ago.

Hermione said again, "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry had turned away from her, trying to make himself calm again. Poppy interrupted briskly, "Time for your potion, Harry. Miss Granger, I don't know why you were allowed in, but it's time to leave now."

Harry spoke in a more controlled tone, "You know, Hermione, you're the very first, and the only one, to actually say sorry."

Hermione took a swift step toward him, and put a hand on his arm. He whirled, spinning on his left leg. He held his knife in his hand. In a hard voice, he said, "Among those 'Get Well' cards were quite a lot of threats. You might spread it about that I am _not_ defenceless, magic or not."

Hermione's eyes dropped to the sharp knife he held, presumably the knife that had taken the life of Peter Liddicombe. She backed away, and spoke in a soothing tone, "I'll spread it about. I will not return."

Harry nodded curtly, "Good." Quietly, he took the potion, and then went to bed, as instructed. It hadn't been just the bone strengthening potion this time. He thought there had been Calming Potion as well. All the same, once Poppy had left him, he cried, very quietly. Hogwarts had seemed like a home to him once.

She brought a meal for him a couple of hours later, this time helping him out of bed so he could sit at the desk and eat it. Severus Snape joined him. Without preliminary, he said, "Miss Granger told me that you said a lot of those Get Well cards were threats."

Harry nodded, "Some were merely insults, one told me that she'd lost fourteen of her family, and how could I do that. That I don't deserve to live. I opened twelve, and gave up."

"Were there any nice ones?"

"Some." Abruptly changing the subject, he asked, "Severus, what happened at St. Mungo's. I can't remember much after the first few hours."

"They kept you heavily dosed. I was not allowed to see you. Someone else was in charge."

"Who would want to be in charge of me?"

"His name was Rufus Scrimgeour."

Harry's brow wrinkled, "There was a Rufus, I think. He used to feed me." He stared into the distance, still frowning, then shook his head, "I can't remember."

It was a good performance, but Snape was a very clever man, and it was lucky that he had his mind on something else. All he said was that Scrimgeour had died suddenly of a heart attack. Harry concluded that he was safe from suspicion. Snape said, "Do you mind if I go through those cards for you?"

"If you want, but don't throw any out. I prefer to know who my enemies are."

"A good policy in general, but you can't forget you have friends as well. It was silly to threaten Miss Granger. She means you nothing but good."

"She tells me condescendingly that there are Muggle professions that I might enjoy."

"You can't blame her for that. She was doing her best."

"I guess."

"I would like to tell her that you're sorry, and you'd like to see her again."

Harry was silent, and Snape said persuasively, "You need allies, Harry. You need people who think of you as an equal, as a wizard. Rufus Scrimgeour, he had every intention of taking you home as his pet, since you're only a Muggle."

Harry suddenly felt absolutely desolate. He'd had to kill again. Why didn't people just leave him alone?

Snape misunderstood the reason for the look on Harry's face, and said stiffly, "I'm sorry, but you needed to know. You're a goodlooking boy, and for some, there's the lure of having what Voldemort had. There may be others like Scrimgeour who have the influence to get what they want. You're safer living anonymously."

"I can never come back, can I?"

"No, I don't think so. At the same time, right now, you can't be seen by Muggles. There would be no explanation for a paper-thin thigh bone."

Harry rubbed his leg, "It's not that bad."

Snape said, "What I strongly suggest is that I go to Hermione, who is your friend, no matter what you think, and tell her you're sorry, and can she visit again. You should also see other visitors. There's Neville Longbottom, and you know he tried to help you. Meggie Liddicombe. She ran to get me when you were in trouble. There are others."

"Meggie. Isn't it her cousin whom I killed?"

"Peter Liddicombe was a Marked Death Eater, knocked unconscious when Voldemort died. He recovered, but was expelled."

"I didn't know that he'd been a Death Eater."

"Well?"

Harry sighed, "You're quite right. I was stupid. In any case, a knife is not much good against a wand."

Snape gave his thin smile, "It worked nicely against Liddicombe."

"It was a fluke. I'd been practising for ages, but it was still a fluke."

"All the more reason not to alienate your friends."

With sudden decision, Harry said, "If I write a note, will you give it to her?"

"She has Potions this afternoon. I will give it to her then."

The rest of the class had been dismissed, and Hermione read the brief note, _Dear Hermione. I'm sorry I was so rude, and there was no excuse for showing you the knife. Thank you for coming. I'd like you to come again, just that we won't talk about fifth year, OK? Harry._

Snape said, "He is unhappy being here again. It makes him feel vulnerable, and he reacted by being aggressive when it was not warranted."

"Were there really threats in those letters, Professor?"

"Some very nasty threats, and worse. Remarks about his destiny as a boy for men to use."

Hermione stared, "You're joking!"

"He was fifteen, and looked younger. He was all alone, with no means of support, no-one to go to, and he was afraid to be discovered by wizards. Many wizards enjoy Muggle boys. It is not surprising that some assume he lived by prostitution."

Hermione swallowed, "He didn't, did he?"

"I have no idea how he lived. He only contacted me after he was seventeen, and then only because he needed to go to Gringotts. There was an inheritance."

"He didn't like what I said about Muggle professions. Maybe he doesn't go to school, so he can't get qualifications."

Snape didn't answer. Hermione picked up her bookbag, and said, "I'll come after lessons. You could tell him if you see him."

Snape nodded, a lot more pleased than he was showing. Hermione was Head Girl. She had influence only for a few more months, and only with some of the students. What happened afterwards depended on whether the Carlyles accepted a Muggle-born as a prospective wife for their second son. As the wife of a Carlyle, she'd have some influence, but not otherwise. Muggle-borns never made it to political power. The Longbottoms, however, and the Malfoys. Draco Malfoy was the head of that family now, affianced to Marie Bowen. The Bowens were another old Pure-blood family. Marie's brother had been Sean Bowen, a Marked Death Eater, rendered mindless, and recently put down by the family. Marie was unlikely to be sympathetic to Harry.

Snape was very thoughtful. That Scrimgeour had only to make his desires known, and no-one had seen fit to try and thwart him… It concerned him very much. Harry needed influence on his side. Sirius Black. The last he'd heard of Sirius was that he'd finally given up on the wild parties, and was beginning to steer a straighter course. There was a steady girlfriend, he thought. Sirius was unstable, but the Blacks had money, and he was cousin to Narcissa Malfoy. They'd been seen together quite a bit recently. Who else? The Weasleys? He'd try Molly. She ruled Arthur, who'd become sillier with every year he aged. He wouldn't be a great deal of help. Thank goodness Vance McKenzie was on his side. What about Shacklebolt and Huntington? They were the same Aurors who'd led Harry out to hand him over, as instructed, but they'd tried to help him afterwards, as long as it didn't conflict with their orders.

He counted over to himself the other former members of the Order of the Phoenix, who might be expected to have some interest in the welfare of Harry Potter. They were an odd assortment, and out of them all, there were none with any real importance in the world. Probably Dumbledore didn't like anyone who might have challenged his authority. He sighed. He'd do what he could, but it would be best to get Harry away, somewhere safe, as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Poppy said that there could still be complications, that he really should be under the care of a qualified mediwizard, not a nurse, no matter how experienced. At least there was Vance McKenzie on his side. He could protect him to some extent, - it was those with influence who were the problem.

***chapter end***


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 10:**_

Fifteen days after the attack on Harry, he listened to Neville as he spoke enthusiastically about his chosen career in Herbology. Hermione was a frequent visitor, usually coming three times a day, even though it had been very awkward at first. There were others, never more than two at a time, and no-one who refused to hand over their wands to the teacher who guarded the door. Neither Ron nor Ginny Weasley came, but several younger students did, including the Creeveys. Ernie MacMillan, to his surprise. He'd never been close to Ernie, whom he'd thought rather pompous. But Ernie had entertained him with accounts of Hagrid's latest lessons, and of his new pet, a Griffin crossed with something else. It was not illegal, but probably only because no-one knew exactly what it was.

There had been insults as well, when a sixth year had come in for treatment for severe burns. He'd been in pain overnight, unable to sleep, so had amused himself by detailing what would happen to Harry as a Muggle slave. "I heard my father speak of it to my mother. She says she doesn't mind him having a toy. Then my father said there was some competition, some bidding going on. It's your name, I think, rather than your looks."

Harry glanced over at him, and the boy added, "Your owner will probably make the collar to match the Bracelets. Some owners share their slaves, you know." Harry made no threats, and there was no indication that he used any magic, but Hadrian Warrington would never sire children. When his father and older brother visited him, and both of them examined him very closely, though from a distance, he made an extra spell. Not only was Hadrian's father now sterile, he was also impotent. He didn't dare make Hadrian's brother impotent. He was only a few years older than himself, and it could be seen as suspicious, especially if they compared notes. But wizards like this should not exist. Preventing them breeding was not as drastic as killing them. Harry felt himself justified.

He was walking a lot more easily now, and was allowed to sit for a total of four hours a day. He was still taking bone strengthening potion twice a day, and still had to take care. His leg was not yet strong. He was looking out the window when Cornelius Fudge assured Professor Kent that he just wanted to say hello to poor Harry, and Henry Steinway wanted to meet him. Steinway was polite to Harry, congratulating him on his success against Voldemort. Harry shivered as he was inspected.

Only a half hour later, Fudge brought two more in, the first introduced as Benson Zabini, who spoke to him cordially, and mentioned he was the uncle of Blaise Zabini. The second was Jessem McLaggen, who was as enormous as his bullying son, whom Harry knew. Mclaggen didn't bother with pretence, but inspected him with lust written on his face. Harry glared at them all, and made Fudge and McLaggen impotent, and Zabini sterile. He may have taken his revenge, but Harry was very afraid.

Poppy glared at the visitors from a distance, but she had her new 'assistant' with her, and did nothing to intervene. Snape wasn't seen that day, but at least the door was still only guarded by teachers.

The next time that Hermione visited, Harry said in a low voice, "I need to escape, urgently. Will you help me this time, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned, "You need to stay here a while longer. I heard Professor McGonagall telling Minister Fudge that your condition is still precarious."

"Some wizards keep Muggle slaves, boy or girl. Minister Fudge is happy for me to go to that fate. I need to leave today, now, before they assign real guards. If you and I stroll out together, just for a walk, I don't think Professor Sprout will interfere."

Hermione hesitated. Harry waited. He didn't think he'd be allowed to simply walk out, but if Hermione was with him… Hermione nodded abruptly, "If that's what you need. I don't believe they'd do that, but I'll help you."

Professor Sprout was surprised and doubtful, but Harry looked at her pleadingly, and Hermione said briskly, that it was only for a few minutes as Harry wanted to stretch his legs. He was already dressed. He'd been dressing for the past few days, just Muggle clothes, jeans, a jumper, and now he wore a light jacket. His money bag was attached to his belt, and so was his knife, but they were concealed by the jacket. He thought himself lucky to still have his wallet and his weapon. He didn't have any other possessions with him, not even anything suitable for the Winter outside.

Once they were out the door, he murmured, "Cloaking Magic to cover the two of us, as strong as you can make it."

Hermione made the complicated motion with her wand, and said, "Now what?" Harry had also made the Charm, hoping to increase the effectiveness.

There was snow on the ground, and a bitter wind blowing, so there were few people around once they left the castle. Those whom they'd passed had not seemed to notice them. Draco Malfoy did, and turned his steps to follow them outside. Once away from the castle, he made some Cloaking Magic of his own, and joined them. Harry was watching him with a wary alertness. His hand was on his knife, but he was not threatening.

Draco said casually, "Leaving, Harry? Good idea. I suggest you hide yourself very well, and never be seen among wizards again."

Harry nodded curtly, "It is what I intend."

Hermione asked, "Are you going to raise an alarm, Draco?"

"No, I don't think so. I find it hard to think of my old enemy as a mere toy for Henry Steinway or Benson Zabini. My father would have been in the bidding once. He liked pretty Muggles."

Hermione asked, "Are they really bidding for him?"

"Fudge is selling him to the highest bidder, Blaise tells me. And Snape is suddenly ill, with an Auror at his door. They say it is for his protection."

"He would have liked to protect me."

Harry skidded on the snow, and swore, barely managing to recover himself. Draco took his arm, "From what I hear, you can still break your leg again. It's why you're not already bending over for the highest bidder."

Harry said fiercely, "I'll kill anyone who tries."

Draco laughed, "No Muggle has a chance against a wizard."

"Will you help me then? I need to apparate away."

"I can apparate with a passenger."

Hermione said regretfully, "I never learned, but maybe I'm safer."

Harry turned to Draco, "Will you help me escape, or lead me to a trap?" He was looking into Draco's eyes, looking for the lie.

Draco shrugged, "I'll help you escape. Just tell me the destination."

"That big railway station in Edinburgh. Do you know it?"

Professor Sprout crossed to Poppy, "Harry's a long time. He said he was just going for a walk."

Poppy hissed her to quiet, and said, very quietly, "We will not raise the alarm, will we, Pomona."

Professor Sprout asked, but in a low voice, "Why not? I thought he still had to be watched carefully."

"Don't you know what wizards do to Muggle boys?"

"But Harry's a wizard." She blanched, "Surely not!"

Poppy nodded, "I was planning to try and smuggle him away tonight, but I'm hoping he's already gone."

"Where's Jake?" Jake was the 'assistant.'

"Sleeping. I let him see me give Harry a sleeping potion, so when I suggested he take a nap, he did. He was awake most of the night."

Harry dropped his Cloaking Magic in Edinburgh, bought a ticket to Glasgow, and made the opposite spell when he did so, commonly known as 'Remember Me,' as opposed to 'Don't Notice Me.' The one who sold him the ticket would remember him, and so would one or two others of the rail staff. They saw him board the train, but didn't notice him leave again before the train left. Then he went to Potter Manor, profoundly relieved to see there was no snow here. He slipped again, but twisted, and came down on his left side. There was a sharp pain in his right leg, but he waited, and it went away. No harm done, and he gave a sigh of relief.

Once in his own room, he lay on his bed, very weary. Home safe, and without breaking his leg again. He'd only fallen once, though several times, he'd been very grateful for Draco's strong arm. Fancy Draco helping him! He'd seen Ron in the distance, tobogganing with the other Gryffindor seventh years. It had hurt. Once he would have been one of them, now he had to flee to avoid a fate as a slave. He felt the bitter humiliation, - that he was thought of now as no more than a pretty boy with an intriguing history.

After a while, he wearily rose again, and called, "Bandehm!" The house-elf popped into his presence, nearly falling over himself to bow as low as possible. Harry sighed, house-elves were really rather tedious. They were not company. He asked, "Are you able to procure ingredients for potions?"

"Oh yes, Master Harry."

"Thank you. I'll give you a list."

"Will Master Harry be here for long, Sir?"

"About a week, I think."

Bone-strengthening potions morning and afternoon, this time made by himself. To buy it ready-made could be a possible clue to his whereabouts. Graded, cautious exercises, trying to remember Poppy's instructions as carefully as he could. She'd explained how she expected his treatment and recovery to progress, more clearly than she would normally have done. There had even been a prominently marked bottle of potion left on his bedside table, which he'd left behind as too conspicuous if he was seen with it.

The following day, he made a brief trip to Glasgow, very careful in case they were already searching there, and bought himself a few items, some black Muggle clothes, plus copies of some of the school books he was using that year. He was falling behind. In a couple of places, he made the 'Remember Me' Charm.

He rested afterward. His leg wasn't strong, and he felt shivery and fatigued after the excursion. Still, in the cause of having the search concentrated in Glasgow, he returned in the evening, found one of the seedier districts, and showed himself in a few bars, as if looking for a client. They would also remember him. That was enough. He planned never to return to Glasgow again. He didn't like the city, and every moment he was there, he'd been afraid. He'd told the Creevey brothers he lived there, as well as Hermione. They might not intend to betray him, but there was Veritaserum. He expected them to trace him quite quickly to Glasgow.

Snape didn't leave Hogwarts. He'd been threatened with Azkaban, and he was terrified of Azkaban. He was quite sure he was being watched. If it hadn't been for his practice as a spy, he would have been unable to conceal his fury when Vance McKenzie had explained coldly that the Minister for Magic was not to be defied. Cornelius Fudge had nodded, satisfied, and it was only later, some days after Harry had disappeared, that McKenzie visited him, glanced at the walls with a significant finger to his lips, then written a note to say that he'd visited Kreighley, and reminded them that if strangers appeared with photographs or descriptions of Harry, they should deny all knowledge. Snape nodded, mouth set.

McKenzie added, _You should keep right away from him. Don't even communicate. Your mail is not secure._

Snape took the paper, and wrote, _The story is that I have never known where or how he lived. He only contacted me once he turned seventeen._ McKenzie nodded, and vanished the paper.

Ross Davies stood up at dinner the night after McKenzie's visit, and said carefully, "I've been informed that Ricky is no longer in the hands of his enemies, but is still in grave danger. If questioned about a boy answering to his description, deny having anyone like that here. If anyone at school asks about Ricky, he's in a London hospital. He is ill." He finished, "I know some of you are only young, and some may not even like him, but he is one of you. I know you will do your best to protect him."

Ian asked, "What happened to him, Sir?"

"All I know is that he's on the run. The ones who had him don't know him as Ricky. That is his only protection. Be _very_ careful what you tell anyone."

The following day, Ross heard whistles, but when he investigated, it was practice. Every boy was there, and Chris was demonstrating to one of the younger ones the variations that indicated direction. Ross watched. Chris gave him a glance, and ignored him. The whistle system pre-dated Ross's appointment, and he knew that the previous manager had not been privy to the meanings of the whistles.

Chris crossed to him afterwards, and asked, "Do you want to know about it?"

"Very much."

"It started with the warden two before you. He used to touch up the boys, may have gone on to more, but there was one here then, a middle-class boy, a bit like Ricky. He said we had to look after each other. So whenever he was alone with anyone, the boy would whistle, and we'd come. No-one does anything with a half dozen witnesses. He left, and then there was Wentworth, who was pretty pathetic, and then you came."

"The whistles indicate direction?"

Chris nodded, and gave a short two-burst whistle. "That says we're only practising." And then he proceeded to demonstrate the different whistles. Ross paid attention. Chris nodded his approval. "If you find yourself in trouble with the mongrels who took Ricky, give us a whistle. No-one picks a fight when they're outnumbered."

There was no enquiry for a few days, as the searchers were concentrating on Glasgow. But then a benign looking man came, photograph in hand, and asked whether he knew anyone by the name of Harry Potter, or had seen this boy. Ross studied the picture of the sleeping Ricky, and said thoughtfully, "Certainly not recently. I think I remember someone looking a little like this from several years ago. But he was not called Harry. John Carr, his name was, and he went back to his mother, as I recall."

The man shrugged, "It can't be our Harry then. If you do hear anything of him, please call this number, and ask for Cornelius."

"Certainly, Cornelius."

The man shook his head, smiling, "Oh, I'm not Cornelius. He's the one in charge of the search."

"His father?"

The man smirked, "Not his father, no."

Harry was in trouble. The cramps had made a resurgence, frequent and excruciatingly painful. Magic was easy for him normally, but making a spell while in the midst of screaming agony, was just too difficult. Instead, he tried to brew a potion. So far, he'd ruined five batches, twice because he was not good at potions, in spite of Voldemort's memories helping him, and three times because he'd been interrupted by an acute cramp and subsequent fall. He had his right leg in a sort of magical splint now, in order to protect it from fractures. So far, he'd been lucky, though it was covered with deep red and black bruising, from the cramps, it appeared, rather than any bumps. He needed a healer, but going to any healer was rife with danger.

His sixth attempt at a muscle relaxation potion seemed to work, and he took it every hour, the bone strengthening potion night and morning, and pain relief potion whenever it seemed too much. He knew that too much pain relief could cause problems. The cramping eased and disappeared, but it was a further few days before he felt confident to go out.

The Potter Manor had been in the Potter family for generations, but luckily Lily had made some changes. It was equipped with thoroughly modern plumbing, and it had electricity, accounts being paid automatically from the Household Account. There was even a working TV, though it looked very old-fashioned by the standards of the day. Two cars were in the garage, and Harry took the opportunity to practise stealing a locked car, and then driving it, though not going off the property. The telephone was connected, and there was a current phone directory, presumably delivered automatically by the phone company. The house didn't seem to be hidden from Muggles, and once a farmer had raised a hand to Harry as he walked the boundary, trying to get his leg back into working order. Three and a half weeks after he'd been tempted to Diagon Alley, he made an appointment to have his black hair cut and dyed blonde.

He looked at it afterward, finding the sight comical. The hairdresser had done a thorough job, to the extent that his eyebrows were also made more pale. He'd suggested that his eyelashes be bleached, but that had been refused because of the danger to his eyes. Instead, he'd had her cut them, very carefully, so that they appeared less black. She'd shaken her head afterward, and told him it was a mistake, that his eyes had been stunning, and now they appeared ordinary. Harry peered in the mirror, and laughed, "I daresay they'll grow back."

The brief moment of merriment was rare. He felt ever more lonely, and longed for home. Home was not in this deserted house, where his own voice and footsteps were the only sound he heard, unless he switched on the TV. He thought maybe he should watch the news, just in case there was something about him missing, but after ten minutes he switched it off again, irritably, and went for another walk around the estate. The bruising on his thigh seemed to be very deep, and was even now yellow, in spite of the regular application of anti-bruising lotion. He hadn't had to make that. It was common and easily available, no betrayal that he might be somewhere close.

One day he studied the Binding Bracelets. For wizards, it was an identifier. He'd thought that being known to be without magic would make him safer, but it hadn't. He made a severing spell, and the right one fell off. Another, and they were both gone. It felt odd. For two years he'd worn them. He'd so hated them at the start, but once the magic in them was gone, they hadn't worried him. He could buy himself a watch now.

It was not until early February that he decided it was time to go. The bruising appeared to be mostly gone, maybe a trace of yellow here and there, a few blacker ones on his left leg and both arms, where he'd fallen and tried to protect the vulnerable thigh bone. The bruises would support his story, or lack of story. This time, he was not going to deny he'd been used for sex. He was just going to say nothing, and let them draw their own conclusions. Allowing them to assume it was sex meant they would stop looking for other explanations. And anyway, it was true. No-one had seemed concerned any more that he could be a danger to them.

He waited for midnight even before starting to dress. The next day was Sunday, so if it was safe, he could sleep in. Any hint that his home was no longer secret, and he'd return here, and then try and work out what to do next. He didn't even have his birth certificate and passport. He hoped Snape had them safe. He no longer had that pendant that could call for help, as it had disappeared while he was in St. Mungo's. He wasn't sure he'd dare call for help in any case, not knowing what sort of 'help' he might get. As far as he knew, the Aurors had made no effort to protect him from Scrimgeour, or later from those other inspections.

He shivered, remembering lecherous eyes scanning him up and down. In the Muggle world, only Clark had looked at him like that. Travis Clark seemed benign now, even diffident, compared to those others.

Black clothes, a black beanie over his hair, and then he used some grease mixed with ashes to blacken his face and the back of his hands. Only his eyes shone white now, and his teeth when he smiled at himself. The smile was an attempt to cheer himself up. In the past few days, he'd become convinced that they'd be there waiting for him. And then he'd probably kill someone, and they'd see, and he'd never be safe again. No matter how powerful, if there were enough against him, a wizard would be defeated. Voldemort had only lasted so long because so many had become his followers, and maybe because of that ridiculous prophecy that said he could only be defeated by the Boy Who Lived. It meant that no-one else bothered trying.

Chris squawked when a gentle hand shook his shoulder, and there was an urgent whisper to be silent. Harry only allowed him to turn on the light when he was assured there had been nothing out of the ordinary, and no-one outside the Home even knew that Ricky Drayton had been missing.

When he did, he gaped at Harry, standing with face blackened, and gaped more when he took off his hat, and tossed his head affectedly, "Like the new hairstyle?"

Chris congratulated him, and said, "We'll go tell Davies. He said to let him know, day or night, if you turned up."

"You go then. I'd best wash."

Ross had only taken the time to throw on a dressing gown and push his feet into some shoes before following Chris to the communal bathing facilities. They found Ricky with some paper towelling trying vainly to remove the blackening compound. Instead of greeting Ross properly, he said, almost tearfully, "Boss, it won't come off."

Ross automatically soothed, "It's only a bit of dirt. It'll come off." But the greasy muck only seemed to spread further, and he finally said, "Don't touch anything. Wait here, and I'll bring some turps. That'll cut the grease."

The turpentine worked nicely on his hands, but then Ross started on his face. Harry complained that it was stinging, and yelped when he went close to his eyes. He was whining, even whimpering. For Ross, it was a surprise to see Ricky, always so cool and polite, behaving like an over-tired toddler.

He finally finished, wiped him over with a warm wash cloth, and said, "All gone. You're clean, and it's all over."

Ricky said shakily, accusingly, "You hurt me. I never thought you'd hurt me."

Chris said reasonably, "Ricky, it was only a bit of turps to clean your face. The Boss wouldn't hurt you."

"Is it gone?"

"All gone."

Ross said, "Ricky, it's all right. You've been through something horrible, and it's over."

"Over."

"Gone. Finished. You're safe now."

Harry said shakily, "I thought I'd never be able to come back."

Ross put all the warmth and reassurance in his voice that he could. "You are back. You are home, and you're safe."

"I thought they'd be here, waiting for me."

"They are not here."

"You're sure?"

Ross shook his head, "Trust me, Ricky. I won't let anything happen to you."

Harry turned away, his voice suddenly calmer, and more controlled. "If they come for me, you won't be able to help me. I'm safe only as long as they don't know where I am."

"Are you hurt, Ricky?"

Harry shook his head, very wearily, "I am not hurt. I don't need a doctor or a counsellor or anything else. I'll just go to bed, if I'm allowed."

"Of course."

Quite suddenly, Ross pulled him close in a hug, "It's all right, my boy. We'll look after you."

Harry broke, wailing and sobbing in the boss's arms. Chris watched, appalled. He'd so admired Ricky. He'd become their leader, even though he so seldom put himself forward. To see him go to pieces like this was awful. He didn't go away. It was the teaching of that other boy like Ricky, years ago, - never leave a boy alone with a screw. He waited as Ross held his friend close, rubbing his back, and reassuring. It took a long time before Ricky sniffled and apologised, and then he wouldn't look at Chris when he went to bed. Chris said awkwardly, "I won't tell anyone you cried."

Harry's voice was muffled, "Thanks."

***chapter end***


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**_

_**Chapter 11:**_

Rita Skeeter had been investigating, with the help of an anonymous letter that she'd received some days before. Muggle slaves, used by wizards. Many witches didn't know it happened. It was a taboo subject, like the 'Muggle-borns' being almost invariably a result of rape by a wizard. Rita had known about it from the time she was small, and had seldom given it any thought. They were only Muggles after all, an inferior species. But that Harry Potter had been threatened with the fate, - that was very different. She so well remembered him looking so pathetically small next to the other Triwizard Champions. He'd been gutsy though, not allowing himself to be brow-beaten by her aggressive style of reporting, and completing the tasks with courage and ingenuity.

He'd won, and his win had been scarcely acknowledged in the shadow of the sudden death of Cedric Diggory, and the return of Lord Voldemort. And then, not long later, the boy had defeated the monster, and been given an Order of Merlin. How they could say he was Muggle after that! Just because his magic was gone, and that was Dumbledore's fault, a wicked punishment, even though the poor boy hadn't actually done anything wrong. For the first time in her life, Rita Skeeter was on a crusade. That Harry Potter should be honoured as a wizard, and now that she thought about it, Muggles were not that different. Wizards had no _right_ to use them as they fancied!

Ron Weasley regarded the photograph of Harry on the front page of the Daily Prophet, and the heading, _Harry Potter, The Hero who defeated the Dark Lord._ It was a photograph from years before, rather than the recent one in which he'd been shown in a potion induced sleep. Ron remarked to Lavender, "Dad says the 'defeat' was like someone getting indigestion from eating a bad oyster. It doesn't exactly make the oyster a hero!"

Lavender looked at him disbelievingly, "You were his friend! How can you say that?"

Ron put on his stubborn face, "Because it's true. He didn't even go voluntarily. He was not a hero."

Parvati Patil looked up, and asked, "Have you read the rest of the article? It says that he barely escaped being taken as a slave."

Hermione said quietly, "Just a half hour after he walked out, two Aurors arrived to put him under heavier guard. It's what he was frightened of."

Ron protested, "Harry's not a Muggle!"

"They're saying he is, which makes him legitimate prey according to those without conscience. If someone was a follower of Voldemort, and survived, it would be an ideal way of getting revenge."

Parvati said doubtfully, "This bit about slaves… Surely it's just sensationalism?"

A fifth year girl said quietly, "I think I saw one once. It was at my uncle's place. It was a boy about fourteen. He wore bright loose pants, silk or something like that, no shirt, no shoes, and he had a collar around his neck. My mother told me it was something that proper women don't notice."

"Are you sure, Cinny?"

"I'm sure of what I saw, but no-one told me anything more about it."

Sunday morning, and Harry woke early from a deep sleep. There had been a sound outside. Silently, warily, he picked up his knife from the bedside table, and looked out the small window. There were no signs of trouble, just Jason and Jeremiah pushing each other, half playing, half in a test of strength.

He was home, but what would they think? What had they been told? Resigned, he gathered his towel and some clothing, and went to shower.

He was given a great welcome when he went to breakfast. He'd been afraid he'd go to pieces again, but thankfully it wasn't so hard today to keep up his façade of control. Carrying on like a fool just because Davies had hugged him, - he was ashamed of himself, and yet felt himself as fragile as his leg had been. Marshmallow under a brittle shell. Chris stayed close, and when the inevitable questions started, told them firmly to leave him alone.

Ross Davies came in, this time followed by his wife. Helen had little to do with the boys. She disliked their roughness and their crude language, and usually ate in their own quarters, a comfortable small house attached to the Administration block, but back a little, and clearly marked private. She knew many of the boys by sight, and also because her husband spoke of them. She cared about them, knew many of their stories, even cried for them. She just didn't want them too close, and had insisted that their rostered jobs not include any work in the kitchen. She didn't trust their hygiene.

Mikey was behind them in the line at the servery, even dirtier than usual, and there was a nasty, unwashed scratch across his face. Ross noticed her averted look, and sent the boy to wash. He'd be dirty again before long, and he was beginning to have his suspicions about the cause. It had been worse since Ricky had disappeared.

Other staff also frequently ate in the big dining room. Ross's assistant was Adam Connelly, a young man of twenty. He was tall, slightly stooped, and his head was shaven, making him look like a criminal, though it was a leftover from a fundraising drive. Adam was an idealist from a privileged background, who had little notion of how to relate to the boys. There was also Ray Taylor. He was around sixty, he had a red face and big belly, and he looked after the grounds. His wife was the cook. The only other staff were a couple of cleaners and an assistant cook, none of whom lived in, and only had the occasional lunch in the dining hall.

Helen asked quietly as she sat next to her husband, "Isn't Ricky here?"

"You know him?"

"Good-looking, well-mannered, long black hair in a pony-tail."

"His hair is now collar length, and blonde. He's at the far end, talking to Jason and Jeremiah."

Helen glanced over, and said quietly, "He looks different."

"It's taken a toll on him. He's very shaky."

"Is Dr. Tan to see him?"

"I haven't called him yet."

"What about Ruth?"

"I'm reluctant to phone in case someone hears. I'd prefer to take the car and see her personally, but I need to be here as well."

"And Adam doesn't drive. I guess I'd best do it."

Ross turned to her gratefully, "Would you? It's a long way."

"It makes me sick to think that someone can take a boy and do that to them."

"Emphasise utmost discretion. It has to be some very powerful men who want our boy."

Shortly after nine o'clock, Helen drove out, and Ross rang the doctor. "Jason, fighting again, but this time he's hurt himself. You might as well do that follow-up blood test as well, him and Ricky. I've told them to hang around."

"Ross, it's Sunday!"

"Come on, Joe. You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was necessary."

The doctor sighed, "Ten o'clock at the surgery."

"Could you come here? Please?"

The doctor paused, wondering what was going on. He'd had some interesting times with Kreighley boys in the past. He remembered one in particular, - the language! And the child had only been about twelve. He said, "I'll come. A physical exam & blood tests for two."

"Come to my office first. I'll explain a little."

"Good."

Ross called Ricky to his office and asked seriously, "What happened, Ricky?"

"I did not go by choice, Sir, and I'm back now. I will not tell you what happened."

"You were away five weeks."

"Yes."

"Are you hurt at all?"

"No, Sir."

"Dr. Tan is coming. He is to do a full examination."

"I told you I am not hurt."

Ross said gently, "I insist." There was no reply, and Ross added teasingly, "You wouldn't want me to tell anyone you _cried,_ would you?"

Harry looked up, startled, and then laughed, "That was _low_, Sir."

Ross waited, and Harry finally said, "I suppose I knew you'd insist."

"There will be a blood test again, but that was needed anyway, a follow-up from last time. He'll do Jason as well."

"When?"

"He's on his way."

"Will I wait in the computer room? That's close."

"We'll find you there then. Tell Jason as well, will you?"

"Yes Sir."

"By the way, Ricky, the hair. A disguise, or did someone make you?"

"A disguise. I'll be going to a hairdresser every month to keep it like this."

"It's quite a change."

Harry ran a hand through it, grinned ruefully, and said, "Chris says it makes me look more poofy than the long hair did."

Joe Tan found Ross in his office, and asked, "The story?"

"Ricky Drayton. He was taken without his consent, and was away five weeks. He came back last night. He won't tell me anything."

"Was he raped?"

"I assume so, and he didn't deny it. He didn't even protest very hard about seeing you, even though he said he was not hurt."

"How does he look?"

"Not too bad, only that he's obviously been under a lot of stress. He said he thought they might be waiting for him here."

"So he was not set free?"

"He escaped. It is why it's vitally important that no-one talk of it. It seems his captors know him by a different name, and don't know where he lives. Oh, and he's now blonde. He's hoping he's less likely to be found if he looks different."

"He's worried about being found?"

"Terrified is more the word."

"Jason?"

"A cover, in case some-one listens to phone conversations. I gather that Ricky's enemies are extremely powerful people."

"You're not worried about your office being bugged."

Ross actually jumped, and looked around, "I hope not! I hadn't thought of it."

"They can't bug every office of every Boys' Home in the country after all, Ross."

"Only the Intelligence Services would have the manpower for that."

"You did say they were powerful people."

Ross complained, "You've got me even more worried now!"

"Sorry." He stood up, "Where am I to work?"

"The First Aid room will be suitable."

They found the boys playing a rowdy computer game, fierce grins on their faces as they raced cars around corners in a surprisingly well drawn cityscape. They looked as if they didn't have a care in the world. Ross smiled. He would despair sometimes, when boys came to him traumatised from cruel treatment, but they were resilient. Ricky would be all right. And Jason, who'd been a nervous wreck this past month, called cheerfully, "In a minute, Sir. I'm going to whip him, you'll see!"

Dr. Tan studied Ricky. They were both standing, controls in their hands, but Ricky stood to the side a little, avoiding contact even with his friend. He'd have to be very careful. He said quietly, "You'd best stay with me, Ross. He'll feel better with a chaperone."

"Yes."

There was a conclusion, and Jason cheered for himself, "Whoo hoo! It's the first time I've beaten you, Rick."

"Yeah, but we'd best get it over with."

Jason gave the doctor a resentful glance, "I suppose. Do you reckon he _likes_ making us feel fuckin' awful?"

"Probably just a side effect, I'd say, Jase."

Joe Tan looked 100% Asian, and spoke in a Cockney accent, "Blood tests for the pair of you, but I need to look at Ricky more thoroughly."

Jason looked concerned at Harry, who showed no expression at all.

Once in the First Aid room, the doctor glanced at the files, and asked, "Any problems at all, Jason? Ricky can go outside if you have anything to discuss."

Jason said aggressively, "The only problem I have is doctors interfering in my business."

Tan prepared an empty syringe, and said, "Take off your jumper, shirt if it has long sleeves, and hold out your arm."

Jason watched curiously as the needle went in, while Harry looked away. The sight of blood being drawn made him uneasy. Blood was a component in some very effective and wicked spells. His own turn then, and Jason was dismissed. He said, "I'll wait for you, Ricky."

"Thanks, Jase."

He already had his jumper off. The doctor turned to him, raised his eyebrows, and took his wrist in his hand, "Ricky, what is this from?"

Harry looked at his wrist, and reddened. He'd totally forgotten that the Binding Bracelets would leave a paler mark on his skin. He'd worn them for over two years after all. He hadn't even made a Cloaking Spell, as he always had over the Bracelets. The doctor was looking at his other wrist, and said quietly, "Restraints."

Jason was still at the door, staring. Abruptly, he too, reddened, and shut the door behind him. Harry said resentfully, "You don't believe in offering any privacy, do you, Dr. Tan?"

"I'm sorry, Ricky. That was a mistake." Without further comment, the doctor took his blood sample, put it away carefully in the refrigerated container, and said, "You can leave underpants on, everything else off."

Face still red, Harry did as he was told. He didn't think restraints would have left a mark like that, not in just five weeks, but nothing more was said, and he was grateful. The doctor went about his business, resuming a soothing patter, as if Harry were a much younger child. Sounding chest, checking pulse, blood pressure, asking about any problems. Harry shook his head, "No problems."

The doctor very well remembered Jason's fury when he was subjected to a check for injuries from anal sex, and explained before trying for cooperation. "Anal sex can leave severe injuries to the back passage. Splits can become infected. If severe enough, even without infection, they can result in incontinence. Do you know what incontinence is?"

"I know."

"There will be no penetration, not even with a gloved finger, but I need to check. Will you please remove underpants, lie down on your side, back to me, legs drawn up."

Ross Davies stood inconspicuous in the corner, relieved when the boy did as he was told without comment. Only his red face showed his embarrassment. The doctor did his check, and said softly, "There is bruising on your thighs, Ricky? Is that from rape?"

Harry didn't answer, only closing his eyes, wishing it was over.

The doctor said, "If we could recover a semen sample from the attacker, he could be put behind bars."

Harry said distantly, "I will not give evidence. There is no point being any more intrusive, Dr. Tan."

"Very well. Stand up, so that I can check any other bruising." He made a few notes, as Harry stood nude before him, staring at the door, wishing for escape. He was quite glad that Ross was there. He felt too vulnerable like this. The doctor did a brief check of penis, saying off-handedly, "Soldiers have to put up with this all the time. They call it a Short Arms inspection. The idea is to catch Gonorrhea early, before it can be passed on."

It was unnecessary, Harry thought, since he'd not actually been raped, but they'd never believe him. And anyway, it was possible he had been raped. He'd spent a week in hospital, not knowing what was happening. It would have been easy enough to have him in a body-bind to protect his leg, and do it then. Thinking about it, it was even likely. He started to tremble, and Ross asked, "Are you finished, Joe?"

"I'm finished. You can dress now, Ricky."

Harry was clumsy, his trembling increasing. Ross helped him with his shirt buttons. Dr. Tan looked at him assessingly, and asked, "Would you like an injection, Ricky? It will help you calm down."

Harry shook his head. He wanted to cry. They shouldn't try and make him talk now. He couldn't.

Ross said quietly, "There's a corridor from here direct to my home. No-one will be there, and I'll put the TV on for you. Would you like that?"

Harry nodded, and Ross took an arm, "This way." Harry was fumbling, uncertain, and Ross settled him in a chair in front of the TV, selected a programme at random, and said, "I'll come back in a few minutes. I'll make you a hot chocolate, if you like."

Harry still had his head down, and didn't answer. Ross touched him briefly on the arm, and left.

He asked, "Well, Joe?"

"Repeated rape, I'd say. Bruising on his thighs, some old, some newer, a nasty one on the back of his shoulder, others on his upper arms, as if he's been forcibly grabbed. There are also the restraint marks. However there is no anal injury, and no sign of any disease. You can expect emotional instability. I'd recommend counselling, but he was totally uncooperative before."

"He might consent this time. He allowed the examination."

"It had to be done, but sometimes it can be almost like another assault." He handed over a small bottle of pills. "If he'll take them, one now, one every morning, one in the evening if he has trouble sleeping."

"Tranquillisers?"

"Very mild. They'll help. I expect you'll want a detailed report."

Ross smiled wryly, "Beaurocracy, but sensitive parts of the boys' files are kept in a safe."

He found Harry still in the armchair, looking at the floor. The TV was showing a housewife being lectured by a man in a white coat, an advertisement for a cleaning product. At least the shaking seemed to have stopped. Without comment, he went and prepared a hot chocolate, set it on the table next to the boy, with a couple of biscuits, then added a glass of water, and a tablet, "It's a tranquilliser, very mild. It will help." Harry glanced at the tablet. Ross stood up, "Take it, Ricky, it will help. I'll be in my office if you want me. Otherwise, just wait here until I return."

Harry nodded, still reluctant to speak. It was like everything was crashing on him at once. How he was going to keep the other boys' respect if he fell to pieces, he didn't know. He'd been humiliated enough. He would _not_ cry in front of them.

Ross rang James Chase, "Ricky Drayton is home and safe. Are you still interested in him?"

"He's safe? What happened to him?"

"Pretty much what we thought. He won't tell us a thing, but I've just had a doctor look at him. The evidence is pretty clear."

"He was used for sex."

"Against his will, yes."

Chase said, thinking about it, "It makes me cringe, to think of him used that way."

"So you're no longer interested in him?"

"I didn't say that. He's a boy with a great deal of potential."

"He's highly intelligent, responsible, and he has a genius with the new boys, especially the ones who are hurting. He managed to escape his captors, which speaks for his courage. But right now, he needs a refuge away from here. He's on the brink of a nervous breakdown, and needs quiet and safety."

"You want me to take him?"

"I want him to stay with you for a week if you're agreeable. No school, and it doesn't matter whether he asks to go or not. He needs time to recover."

"I'll take him of course. Dan will be pleased."

There was an urgent knocking on his door, Jason who'd become impatient, as well as Chris, Ian and Lionel, demanding to know where Ricky was, and whether he was all right. Ross reassured, and added, "But he's going away for a week, to stay with Daniel and the Chases. He'll be safer there, and he'll have time to recover."

Chris said accusingly, "The doctor upset him, didn't he?"

Ross admitted, "A little. He's to go as soon as Mr. Chase arrives for him. You can help him by packing for him, including school books. I expect he'll be back at school next week."

Lionel said anxiously, "He'll be coming home soon, won't he, Sir?"

"Of course, Lionel. Do you remember I told you to say he's been in hospital?"

Lionel said, with a little pride, "I remembered every time anyone asked."

Ross smiled at the boy, "That's very good. He's home now, and I expect he'll be back in a week."

Ian observed, "They're used to us sort of boys coming and going."

By the time that James Chase came for Harry, four boys were waiting with a battered suitcase of clothes, and two heavy bags of school books. They surrounded him, showing affection with jostling, and rough pats on the shoulder, at least one striking the bruise on his shoulder. He wasn't allowed to do anything for himself, Jason even leaning in to do up his seatbelt, until he firmly took it over to do it himself. Ian said, "We packed your swimmers, Ricky. Jase says he's got a swimming pool."

James Chase was almost ignored, treated as a mere chauffeur. It amused him a little, the care extended to Ricky by these rough boys, but then he glanced at Ricky's strained face, and said loudly, "Quickly now. We haven't got all day."

Harry was relieved when the car drew away. He felt dreadful, but he'd been able to maintain his composure. Chase said casually, "You're excused from school for a week, then you see Dr. Tan again on Friday. See how you are then." Harry just nodded.

"Dan will be pleased to see you."

Harry made an effort, "How is he?"

Chase smiled proudly, "He's a great boy. He's doing well in school, and is taking an interest in my antiques."

"Dan's interested in antiques?"

Chase glanced at him, worried, "You don't think he'd like antiques?"

"I guess he might."

"Could he be trying to please me?"

"Well, it would only be natural if he is. To have a family is like a dream sometimes."

"Do you dream of having a family, Ricky?"

"No, it's too late for me. I'm a man, near enough. I couldn't tolerate restrictions that substitute parents might try and put on me."

"We'll be reasonable."

"Thank you for having me. I could use a break."

"Was it bad?"

"I was lonely, that's all. It was not as bad as you're probably thinking."

James left it, to Harry's relief. It wasn't always easy simply to refrain from telling anything. What if he did talk about magic? He'd be thought mad. If he demonstrated? He shivered. That might be worse. He asked, "Does Dan know I'm coming?"

"I told him you were back and safe. I didn't tell him anything else."

"What did Mr. Davies tell you?"

James hesitated, and finally said, "That indications are clear that you were subjected to some cruel treatment. He said you escaped."

"He gave me some pills, but I don't like pills."

"Why not, if they help?"

"I just don't like them."

James glanced at him, "I can tell Dan to keep away from you if you'd prefer."

"I expect he's been imagining the worst. He'll feel better when he sees I'm perfectly all right."

James refrained from comment, but it was obvious to him that the youth beside him was _not_ perfectly all right. He'd said he was a man 'near enough,' but he was not long turned sixteen. He might be a capable boy in many ways, but he was still a boy.

He changed his mind when he saw him deal with Daniel. Harry replied lightly to his urgent questions, - he'd just cleared out for a while, the same as Mark did now and then. Just that he hadn't been in a position to write, and anyhow, maybe he'd been too lazy. Daniel was happier, but said, "It wasn't really that, was it? There was Amy."

"The real story is that I'm the lost Prince of Elba, and they whizzed me back to the Palace to try and drum in Palace Etiquette, but I failed again, and slipped away when they weren't looking."

Daniel said sceptically, "Or an alien, whom someone thinks should be behind bars."

"The boss told me his wife thinks I might be a reject from a selective breeding programme, just that they like to check on me now and then."

Dan asked, "Were you really not hurt much?"

"I'm here, aren't I? No scars and ready to see if I can finally beat you at that new game we played last time."

Daniel studied him, but gleaned nothing from his expression. He shrugged, "Computer room then?"

****

Helen Davies reported to her husband, "Ruth told me that there have been enquiries at all the Children's Homes she oversees, not all from the same man. She agrees that you not talk about him on the phone, and said she'd visit here, but not for a few weeks, after visiting several other Homes. She's worried, hasn't spoken to police, but asks if it's likely that Ricky's committed a crime, and was simply in police custody."

Ross said quietly, "I did think of that. Maybe I should talk to Bill."

"But if he talks, it might put him in danger."

"Bill's all right. A quiet word, off the record."

Harry was preparing for bed, earlier than usual. It was not that he felt particularly tired, but Daniel became anxious about him if he was too quiet. He'd been keeping up a pretence for hours. He looked at the little white pills he'd been given. Just a mild tranquilliser, they said. Maybe they'd help. He tried to take one, choked on it, and threw it away. He'd do without. To his relief, he slept deeply and dreamlessly, never even rousing when James quietly opened the door to check on him.

Vera asked, "Well?"

"Asleep."

"Do you remember that nightmare he had? He was begging someone not to take him."

"I remember."

Vera said tentatively, "I think he needs someone, almost more than Daniel does."

"He's a strange boy. I wonder if one can get to know him. Dan seems so open next to him."

"He might never let us close. It's probably not a good idea."

"I like him and I respect him. I would like to give him a home."

"In spite of what happened to him?"

"Ross told me that when he arrived back, he had black grease on his face and the back of his hands. It was so that he wouldn't be seen if they were waiting for him. He became upset when it wouldn't come off."

"Feeling dirty - that's supposed to be typical of a rape victim."

"Ross said there are marks of restraints around both wrists. He suggested we not say anything." Vera took a deep, uneven breath, and James held her close, "It breaks my heart, too."

Monday. Harry woke early, and thought about going for a run. The Chases' was a big house, but the grounds were not big enough to get the exercise he thought he needed. He wished he could see Poppy. He wanted to know whether he could risk running yet, or whether the jar of the impact would be too much for the new bone. Carefully, he flexed the leg. There had been no cramps for nearly a week. It felt strong enough. Maybe he'd just walk today, and not too far.

Daniel still slept, but he found James Chase in the small dining room with a coffee. He said casually, "Just going out for a bit. I'll be back by eight."

"We told you you're excused from school this week."

"I'm not arguing."

"If I were a little fitter, I'd go with you."

Harry hesitated, and then said, "I'm not very fit at the moment. I was planning on just a long walk."

"Would you like the company then?"

"I would."

James was careful, avoiding sensitive subjects, and only as they entered the front gate, he said, "You can talk to me, you know, if you want. It's not good to keep things bottled up inside you."

"Thanks for the offer, James. And thanks for not asking questions."

James admitted, "I wouldn't want to talk about it if it was me."

Harry asked, curious, "Do you feel uncomfortable with all homosexuals, or is it just that you cringe at the thought of a man with a boy?"

"The latter, especially, but maybe the first as well, but not as much."

"Consenting sex between males doesn't bother me." He glanced at James, and added, "Not that I've ever tried it."

James was even more red now, and Harry grinned, "Sorry, James. I'll say instead that I very much admire the new mahogany table in the living room."

"Beautiful, isn't it? Now and then there's a piece that would be a crime to sell off."

The talk at breakfast was about mahogany furniture, and then it switched to valuable books. Dan asked, "Aren't you coming to school, Ricky?"

"I have the week off. I'm not complaining. Chris packed my textbooks. It'll give me a chance to catch up on what I've missed."

He sighed with relief when Daniel left. He felt so tired. He started to write a note of apology to Amy, but didn't know what to say. He worked on his books for a little, but when Vera looked in, his head was tucked against the side of the chair and he was asleep. She mentioned it to James, and said, "He looks so innocent asleep, as if he's no older than Daniel."

James said, "In some ways, I think he's older than I am."

"Does that mean you no longer want him?"

"It means that I think he will not agree, no matter what we want."

Bill Conroy agreed to discreetly meet Ross Davies at the carpark that overlooked the beach. The waves pounded in, and Ross remarked, "It's no wonder there are so many wrecks around here."

"Yes… I'm a bit busy, Ross."

Ross handed over the birth certificate, and Conroy exclaimed, "So it wasn't a false name!"

"Apparently not. On the other hand, wherever he was before he came to us, he was using a different name."

"Has he told you anything?"

"Not a thing. He was told he had to give us his correct name and a history, or we couldn't keep him. He went missing, and a few days later, a stranger gave me this, together with the warning that for Ricky's safety, I should stay very quiet. He was away five weeks, then came home very late Saturday night. Again he won't say a word of what happened to him. I had Dr. Tan to him yesterday. He's an emotional wreck, there is bruising consistent with rape, and restraint marks around his wrists."

"What do you think I should do about it if he won't talk?"

"I believe he's still in danger. Without broadcasting it, I'm hoping you'll check that the authorities are not searching for a youth answering Ricky's description. I have to admit it's possible he was simply a juvenile offender, who escaped."

"You don't believe it though."

"I know Ricky. He's a good boy."

Conroy was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I didn't treat him with much consideration when he accused that teacher."

"I know."

"The teacher now has a young man living with him. He's twenty-one, so there's no law against it. It just makes it seem more likely that Ricky was only telling the truth."

"I could have told you that."

"As I recall, you did tell me that, - at length!"

Ross laughed, and said, "You'll do this then? Very quietly?"

"I've seen enough rape victims…. I can see how one of those perverts could be attracted to a boy like Ricky."

"Yes."

"Now, about this 'stranger' who brought you the birth certificate."

Ross couldn't give more than a description, and repeated that he appeared to be on Ricky's side. Conroy finished, "Utmost discretion then. I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Bill."

There was another thing to do before Ross returned home. He went to the Chases' place, and explained to Harry what his cover story had been. That he'd been attacked in London, and a blow to the abdomen had triggered a simmering infection in his abdomen. He'd been very ill indeed, and wouldn't even remember the first few weeks of hospitalisation. Harry nodded, "Thanks, Boss, - I mean Sir."

Ross smiled, and asked, "How are you now?"

"It was just the relief, Sir. I promise I won't cry all over you again."

Ross shrugged, and asked, "What do you think about young Adam? Should he pursue a career with disadvantaged youth?"

Harry grinned, "Is that what he calls us?"

"It's a lot better than what Ray calls you!"

Harry laughed, but shook his head, "I think Adam should stick to functions that do not bring him directly into contact with _disadvantaged youth_. It would be a shame to see his illusions shattered."

Ross asked, "Any other hints?"

"Lionel, Sir. Do you have any ideas for a future?"

"He gets along with Ray. If I had the funding, I'd hire him as an assistant. Ray's not as fit as he could be, and I don't think Lionel would do well simply cast adrift."

"There are Summer courses available at the Traynor Tech. I was looking at doing book-keeping and wealth management. There's also Gardening. Maybe if you asked, the Tom Foundation would provide the funding for the courses for both of us." He hesitated, "I don't have my birth certificate."

"You would never have been kicked out, Ricky, birth certificate or not. You could have come to me. You should trust me."

"Of course I should."

"As it happens, your birth certificate was delivered to us by a man who didn't give a name, but said you'd referred to him as a Protector."

"I didn't know that."

"Would you have been taken if you hadn't tried to obtain the certificate?"

"Eventually, probably. I will not be seen anywhere like that again."

"Like what, Ricky?"

Harry shook his head. Ross stood up, "I will send a letter to the Tom Foundation. They sometimes take a while to answer."

Knowing the official story of his disappearance made it far easier to write a note of apology to Amy. He ended, _I very much enjoyed talking to you at the beginning of the year, and hope there will be another chance. Please phone me if you're still interested in a date. I'll be at the Chases until Saturday._ He sent the note to her workplace. He didn't have her address, and was reluctant to face her, or phone. Probably she wouldn't want him any more.

At Hogwarts, debate continued, the Muggle-borns and half-bloods were having their eyes opened. The girls as well, and more girls remembered happening to see girls and boys with collars around their necks. One of the Slytherin boys explained, "A symbol of their status, but also their owner can punish with those collars. Not all of them have them. Those reared from small children don't need them. Some owners don't approve of them."

Someone asked, "What happens to the slaves when they're no longer as goodlooking."

The boy shrugged, "I never actually asked."

Draco Malfoy said, "They can't be freed, and they're not much good for anything else. A kind owner would put them down, no warning, no fear, no pain."

With foreboding, a girl asked, "An unkind owner?"

Draco shrugged. They were only Muggles. It was just that Harry Potter was not a Muggle.

****

For the next few days, James joined Harry in the morning. Harry walked further and faster, feeling more confident in the strength of his leg. On Thursday, he decided to try a run, but wound up on the ground, in agony, as again the thigh muscles went into an acute cramp. It went on and on. James walked in circles, not knowing what to do. At last, he tried stroking very gently. Vera had cramps in the calf muscles sometimes, and said that it helped her focus on relaxing the muscles. It helped Harry too, until the muscle spasm eased sufficiently that he could make the spell, which brought immediate and total relief. He sighed, and relaxed, tears of pain on his cheeks. James sat beside him, just waiting. Harry said, "I won't try running again for a while."

When he swam later that day, James noticed the renewed marks of bruising on his right thigh.

Dr. Tan didn't see the bruising when he came on Friday. There was no need for Harry to strip, and he only asked if he was ready to return to the Home, and whether he wanted a new supply of tablets. Harry returned the almost full bottle, "I only tried one, and somehow the thing just wouldn't go down. I'm fine though. I can go back to school Monday."

"I would recommend counselling. You should at least talk to James or Ross."

"May I have an exemption for Sport please, Dr. Tan? A month off would support the story about an illness."

Dr. Tan obliged, handed over the note, and said, "Take care."

Harry answered soberly, "I will take care."

Saturday morning, James delivered Harry back to Kreighley. Ian and Chris had been waiting, and each promptly took a bag. Harry laughed, "I'm not an invalid, you know!"

Lionel ran up, went to him, and shyly shook his hand. "You came back. I thought you'd gone."

"I'll be around for a while yet, I think, Li."

It was easier than he thought being back. There were a lot of these boys who had things in their past they never spoke of, and they granted Ricky the tolerance they wanted themselves. He even slept well. So far, there had been no answer from Amy.

****

Rita Skeeter's campaign continued, and gained force. Wizards found themselves opposed by their wives and sisters, who thought that even Muggles should not be enslaved merely for their sexual gratification. A few slaves were discreetly sold, or otherwise disposed of. None were allowed free. They knew of magic, and could not be freed, ever. For a very few, obliviation was an alternative, but when there was too much to forget, the victim would be left a vegetable. Maybe death was better.

Cornelius Fudge found himself under siege, and wondered if there was any chance of taking the vote away from women. The trouble was that Aniragi women outnumbered men by around 20%. Maybe if they had something else to occupy themselves with, they'd forget about this bothersome issue. A law was passed that allowed each man to have a second wife, and things quietened down, as widows, many of them the widows of Death Eaters, thought about their options.

Sirius Black married Muggle-born Mary Rayle, as well as his widowed cousin, Narcissa Malfoy. Mary set about re-decorating his home, and Narcissa set about acquiring political influence. Sirius found himself under an iron rule. His health, mental and physical, improved. He avoided thinking about Harry.

Harry did have friends in this world, and they worried about him. Hermione was very glad she hadn't let him down this time. Severus Snape was positive he was still being watched, knew he had a Locator Charm on him, but thought it prudent to leave it. Poppy Pomfrey fretted about his injury. The femur was a major part of the skeletal structure, and Harry should have been under the watchful eye of a Healer for far longer than he had been.

***chapter end***


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 12:**_

Harry returned to school. It was already the middle of February, and the prospect of his final exams weighed heavy. He'd missed weeks of school, and had to work hard to catch up. The teachers helped as best they could. He remembered Snape's intolerance for excuses, and thought with a wry grin, that he'd have had him making up every single assignment or bit of homework he'd missed. The Maths teacher actually spent an hour with him explaining something he'd missed out. He supposed remedial work was not unheard of at Hogwarts, but he'd never had the benefit of any, even after injuries had kept him away from classes for several days at a time. He didn't think he missed the magical world any more.

It was important to keep up with what was happening though, and on Saturday, he apparated to Potter Manor to deal with business, reading back copies of the Daily Prophet with interest. Maybe he wouldn't have Skeeter fired after all. He still only had 30% interest in the paper, even though his manager, on his instructions, was offering premium prices. It seemed he wasn't the only one who thought he needed to influence the opinion of the wizarding community. No-one was willing to sell their shares.

Even more important, elections were coming in four weeks. The members of the Wizemgamot were appointed, as were the functionaries within the Ministry, but the position of Minister for Magic was elected every five years, with no limit on the time an incumbent could remain in that position. This time, it appeared that Fudge was to be opposed by Amelia Bones and Tonius Carlyle. Hermione had told him she and Vayden Carlyle planned to be married after graduation. If it happened, Hermione might possibly have some influence on Vayden's father, Tonius. If Hermione had anything to say, there would be no slavery. Amelia Bones? He knew a Susan Bones. A woman would almost automatically disapprove of their men having slaves for sex.

Harry hoped very much that Cornelius Fudge would lose the election. He didn't have a vote himself, - that was limited to witches and wizards over the age of thirty, who had not been convicted of a crime, or been deemed incompetent for any other reason. He did what he could do, wrote a letter to the Editor critical of Fudge's incompetence. He used a pseudonym, and sent it through the Exchange Post Box. The Exchange was adamant that anything sent thorough them was untraceable.

Business for the Tom Foundation, and he studied the letter from Ross Davies, requesting funds for the extra position for one of his boys. He didn't name Lionel, but spoke of a young man of less than average intelligence, who was already eighteen, but would have difficulty fending for himself. He explained that the young man would have accommodation, could eat with the residents, and would do a Gardening Course in the Summer, before being taken on as a fulltime assistant gardener and maintenance man. It gave Harry considerable pleasure to approve the request, and state that University of Cornwall scholarships were available for any Kreighley boys who qualified.

After some thought, he also allotted funds to provide a laptop computer for every boy above fifth year. He needed one for Potter Manor, as well, and needed to have it ready for internet connection. He might have to hide out here one day. It was ironic. He thought he must be the most powerful wizard in the world, and yet he was terrified of being found. All he wanted was to be left in peace. He had no desire to take over the world, as Voldemort had done. A memory came to him from Voldemort, as it sometimes did. Voldemort had once sought a position within the Ministry, hoping to influence things for the better. He'd been declined, in spite of his cleverness, in spite of his excellent record at school. Tom had never been sure whether it was because he was Muggle-born, or because Albus Dumbledore had used his influence against him.

****

Jimmy Baxter became more of a problem for Harry in the second week back at school. He taunted him about his dyed blonde hair, and he taunted him about being a thief and a liar, and he pushed and shoved against him in the corridor. When he pushed him into a wall, and Harry felt the impact on his right leg, he turned on him in a fury. "What's got into you, Baxter? I haven't done anything to you!"

Jimmy looked him up and down, and sneered, "Behind the shelter shed, straight after class."

Harry considered him, and then whistled piercingly. Chris was there almost straight away, quickly followed by Larry, Malcolm and Ian, all the Kreighley boys in the year below them. Jimmy backed away, "Coward!"

Two teachers arrived, hurrying, hoping there was time to prevent another brawl. Harry said levelly, "I am not fully recovered from an illness. I can fight you in a month, Jimmy, or maybe someone else will volunteer for me."

Ian said eagerly, "I'll fight." He grinned at the Head Boy, "I like fighting."

Baxter said, disgusted, "You're a coward, Drayton."

"All I ask is that you leave me alone for a month. After that, I'll take you on."

Harry hadn't had any cramps since he'd tried to run, but took it as a warning. He couldn't be seen taking potions, and there was no helpful Healer to put him to rights. He didn't know what a Muggle doctor would make of a brittle thigh bone in a boy of sixteen. Fighting now would be stupid.

The Deputy Headmaster pushed himself forward, and said sternly, "There will be _no_ fighting. Settle your differences in another way."

Harry grinned at Baxter, "A game of chess, maybe?"

Baxter snorted and turned on his heel. Harry asked, "What's his problem, anyway?"

There were shrugs, and Chris said, "Search me!"

Jimmy continued to harass Harry. On Friday afternoon, when nearly everyone was at Sport, Harry was walking outside, on his way to the library. The punch came flying before he'd even noticed he was not alone. Stung, he wheeled to retaliate, forgetting caution, but instead screamed and went down. Jimmy stared at his opponent in amazement. Harry rolled on the ground, clutching his thigh, silent now, except for the gasping of pain. There were tears on his face.

A girl spotted them, and hurried over, "What happened?"

"I don't know."

"We'd best get a teacher. Maybe he needs an ambulance."

Jimmy nodded, "You go. I'll stay with him."

Sarah hurried off, and Jimmy squatted beside Harry, "You're not putting it on, are you, Drayton?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. If he could just relax the muscles enough that the pain wasn't quite so bad, maybe he could make the spell without making a mistake. Healing spells on yourself were seldom a good idea, as pain could make the spell either ineffective, or too effective. He didn't want to be left without thigh muscles.

Sarah came with a teacher, who looked at Harry, lying on his back, face screwed up in concentration. Travis Clark asked, "What happened?"

"A cramp, I think, Sir."

Quite suddenly, Harry discernibly relaxed. After a moment, he opened his eyes, and said tiredly, "It was just a cramp in the leg. It's gone now."

"Can you walk?"

"In a little while."

"I'll carry you to the Infirmary."

"Please don't. I'll be better soon."

Clark scooped him up, feeling him tense. He reassured, "I'm in full teacher mode at the moment. You can relax."

Harry complained, "I don't want you carrying me." Clark set him down, and he tried to walk, but again cried out and collapsed, as the muscles went into another acute spasm.

Thankfully, Clark waited until again the muscles relaxed before picking him up, and taking him to the infirmary. This time, he didn't object. Getting tense now would only start it again. Clark said, "Jimmy, are you supposed to be at a game?"

Harry snapped open his eyes, "Don't leave me alone with him, Jimmy."

Clark said deliberately, "I was planning to make quite sure that you were not alone with any male teacher. We don't want any more unwarranted accusations, do we?"

Harry said faintly, "No, Sir." His leg muscles were no longer in spasm, but his whole thigh hurt like fury, and he felt sick.

Jimmy said, "I'm supervising today. I'll stay."

Clark said, quite gently, "I'll bring you some aspirin, Ricky. Do you want me to ring Mr. Davies?"

"No, thank you. I'll rest for a bit and go home on the bus, same as usual."

Clark notified the headmaster that Ricky Drayton was ill. Helmer said, "You'd best keep away."

"I promised to bring him some aspirin."

"I'll take it."

Helmer dismissed Jimmy Baxter as well. Twelve-year-old girls were left alone, with the occasional check by a secretary. Certainly a senior male student could be. Clark made quite sure he had an alibi for every remaining moment of the afternoon.

****

Two days later, Poppy Pomfrey scratched her head, trying to work out the unexpected letter she'd received, almost like a love letter. A very ordinary looking owl, but it had sought her out when she was alone.

_Dear Poppy,_

_I find it hard to forget those memorable few days we spent together in the Summer. It seemed a time out of mind, a time away from life. You told me about your Pierre, gone for so many years, and I told you about Catherine. When I think about those days, I can scarcely remember what I saw, except that I remember your face, so clearly. We had not expected to see each other again, as I was returning to my life, and you to yours. But maybe it was a silly decision. I think maybe I need you in my life. Could you come back again, to that place? Where the sound of the sea is background to a place of quiet. _

_Can we meet there, at the big tree on the streetside just outside? Please Poppy. I need you. Nine in the evening, this coming Friday, under the tree._

_S._

S? She didn't know who would sign himself just the bare 'S.' She went over the letter again, picking out phrases, that there was the sound of the sea. That she'd spoken about Pierre. She rarely mentioned her late husband, but she'd told Harry stories of that time of her life, when they'd been young, before Voldemort had become such a threat. That he scarcely remembered what he _saw_. For most of the time, Harry had seen nothing because of the blindfold. She was sure then. Of course he wouldn't call himself Harry, and she hadn't been told the name he went by as a Muggle. It was Harry, and he needed a Healer. S? Did that mean he wanted Severus to go as well?

She showed him, but Snape shook his head, "I'm being watched, and there's a Locator Charm on me."

"Could there be a Locator Charm on me as well?"

Snape glanced around before he made the revealing spell, and shook his head. "No Locator Charm, and they don't know about the Summer. No-one even asked about the lack of glasses."

"Maybe they simply assumed he lost them when he was attacked."

"Maybe. Will you go?"

"Of course."

"Then I suggest you destroy the letter, and don't tell anyone."

Poppy looked regretfully at the letter, "No-one ever wrote me a letter as sweet."

"He carefully made it seem harmless. It was well done."

"I'm surprised he didn't write to you."

"My mail is being intercepted, I think, and I've been warned that what happens to Harry is none of my business."

"They'd have no grounds for putting you in prison. I've pointed that out before."

"And I've pointed out that I have no-one powerful enough to stand up for me if Fudge decides he wants me out of the way."

"Do you worry about him, Severus?"

"Of course I do. But the best I can do for him at the moment is stay right away."

"He did the right thing not writing to you then?"

"I never gave him sufficient credit. He's a very clever boy."

Harry was very cautious indeed when he approached the designated tree, all senses fully alert. He appeared to have black hair, worn long. He thought that even friends should not know that he looked different now, hence the wig. He also wore the Binding Bracelets. If anyone was watching, the lithe youth could have appeared threatening, silently approaching the middle-aged woman in dress and coat. She was carrying quite a large bag. Quietly, Harry said, "Poppy?"

She turned to him quickly, but stopped herself from saying his name. Instead she smiled, "You'll write some girl beautiful love letters one day."

"I was hoping you wouldn't just throw it away."

"If it hadn't been for the mention of Pierre, I might have done."

"Severus didn't come?"

"He doesn't dare. If he tries to protect you, he'll wind up either murdered, or in Azkaban on some trumped up charge. He says the rumours are that if you are found, you're to be made over to the charge of Benson Zabini, who's promised Fudge the largest amount. You _must_ not be found."

"I have the key to a flat. It'll be warmer inside."

Once inside, the nurse became all business, "Problems with your leg? You were limping."

"There haven't been any more fractures, but there were several days of cramping not long after I left your care, and then there have been a few since, when I try to run, or find myself tense for whatever reason."

"You're limping?"

"The last one a few days ago, in the middle of the night when I had a nightmare. The whole thigh is very bruised."

"Trousers off, and let's have a look."

Poppy was thorough, and at last nodded, "The bone is almost at full strength. There is no need for you to fear further breakages. There seems to be some muscle and nerve damage, and I brought something for that." She produced a bottle that stated prominently, _Pam's Health Stores, the goodness of herbs. _ "It looks Muggle, so you can take it openly. Also some massage lotion. It will help with the deep bruising, but leave the surface bruising much as it is. Severus produced it especially."

Harry smiled and accepted them, but was uncertain. The nurse pre-empted him, "Don't even think of payment. I only wish we could do more."

Harry thanked her gratefully, and asked, "Is Severus really in danger?"

"He certainly thinks he is. He spoke to me at length yesterday. It seems that you've somehow become a prestige item, and Fudge is using the promise of custody of you to help him get elected. He hasn't done it yet, but Severus says it's likely you'll be declared incompetent to manage your own affairs, and then one of our so-called 'Prominent Citizens' will take you into care for your own good."

"I suppose there's no chance that it is for my own good."

"Not many would be paying such a high price to do you a favour!"

"What if Fudge doesn't get re-elected?"

"He has too much influence not to get elected."

Harry bent to do up his shoes. He felt a bit panicky, and said, "Maybe I can stay hidden. I could cut my hair, and I'm very good now at concealing the forehead scar."

The nurse glanced at his long sleeves, "Severus suggested that I make another attempt at removing the Bracelets. He said that now they've done their job, it might not be as difficult."

Harry pulled up his sleeves, "Good idea. I'm thoroughly sick of them."

"How long since they've caused you any pain?"

"Since before I left Hogwarts." He asked, "Poppy, if you take them off, and I can do a little magic after all, would I still be in danger of being taken as a Muggle slave?"

"Hard to say, and after all, all they have to do is ensure you don't have a wand."

"I guess."

The nurse performed the long and involved incantation that was supposed to release the magic of the Binding. The shackles should have fallen off. Nothing happened. Harry said, "They won't be cut or interfered with, I tried again just recently. But I don't think they're active any more. Maybe you could try a simple severing charm."

This time it worked, and the nurse smiled, satisfied, "About time, too. It was _wicked_ of Albus to do it to you."

"Self-defence maybe. I was angry enough in the beginning to have killed him, I think. As it was, I couldn't, and then he died anyway."

The nurse said impersonally, "You've had a bad time."

"If only I don't get taken again, I'll be fine."

"Severus suggests you consider making your home overseas. Here's your passport. He kept it safe for you."

Harry examined it, and said quietly, "I do what everyone seemed to want, and now I'm to be exiled?"

"It's not fair, of course, but there are a lot of wizards hoping for the reward."

"A reward?"

"For information leading to your being taken into protective custody."

"I'm not safe anywhere, am I?" He picked up the Binding Bracelets, and put them in his pocket.

Not safe anywhere. He thought he was safe at Potter Manor, but it was not a home for him. It was just a place to tend to his business as a wizard. Kreighley Beach was home, where he had the companionship of the other boys, even an adult who worried about him. But they'd found him quite easily when he'd first disappeared, and then not long later, when Davies had taken him to his sister's place. Was it worth running again, finding a place in France maybe? Or hiding at Potter Manor? All by himself, with _no-one_ to laugh and play with him! No-one to tease him, no-one to come to his help, just because he whistled. He wouldn't whistle if wizards came for him. There was no way he'd put Chris or Ian or anyone else in danger. Mikey, even. Mikey was a very pretty boy under the dirt. He'd told him once that he tried to catch as many colds as he could, because no-one wanted a kid with snot smeared over his face. If they were on the lookout for pretty Muggle boys, they could check out the others.

He shook himself, thanked Poppy again, and checked carefully outside before walking fast out of sight. Poppy watched him go, tears in her eyes, and then apparated herself back to Hogwarts.

Harry had nightmares that night. He'd wake Chris with his fretting and muttering, settle down for a time, and then wake him again, repeatedly. Chris refrained from throwing anything at him this time, but after the fourth time, when Harry seemed to be crying in his sleep, he went over, sat on the edge of the bed, and soothed, even stroking. Harry jerked up, and Chris said quickly, "It's only me. It's all right, Ricky, it's only me."

Harry took a deep, uneven breath, and apologised.

Chris said, "You'll have to get some sleeping pills."

Harry nodded, and said, "I'm just going for a walk for a little. I might sleep better afterwards."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No need. Have I kept you awake."

Chris said, "Only since eleven or so."

"What time is it now?"

Chris chuckled, "Four, so only five hours. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm sorry, mate."

Harry continued to have nightmares. Chris learned to sleep through them, only waking if his room-mate screamed at the images he was seeing. Harry started to show the effects of the disturbed nights, looking pale and tired in the mornings. Ross saw him walking in the night once, and again recommended counselling. Harry declined, and Ross didn't insist to his relief.

It was the weekend again. Harry felt like death. The images and voices came to him again and again, Scrimgeour stroking his face, those men with Fudge, looking him up and down, their intentions written clear on their faces, Hadrian Warrington, telling him that boy slaves were quite often castrated. He didn't believe that. Wizards might be barbaric in some ways, but surely they would not do that! But then suddenly the young Tom Riddle was there, looking at him mockingly, "You're supposed to be a Fighter! What are you doing cowering in bed? One has to fight back." And suddenly there was Jimmy Baxter who hadn't spoken to him since the aborted fight, "Coward!"

His eyes sprang open, and the fear changed. _Why_ should he be running scared? He was the most powerful wizard in the world, wasn't he? At the very least, he had to be the most powerful wizard in Britain. He had killed, twice, not counting the night that Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters had died. He thought about those recent deaths, Peter Liddicombe, whom he'd knifed. That had been in the heat of action, direct self-defence. Rufus Scrimgeour. He wrinkled his brow. He'd scarcely given him a thought afterwards, though some would call it cold-blooded murder. When he thought of it, he remembered the odd, detached feeling of the time. Maybe he hadn't been as free from the influence of potions as he'd thought. Now it was Cornelius Fudge who was a direct threat to his safety. Fudge was incompetent, power-hungry and corrupt. He needed to lose power. He could think of only one way. Without willing it, the image of Fudge's home came into his head. Voldemort had known where he lived.

Quietly, he rose and dressed, dark Muggle clothes, balaclava, and gloves in case Aurors knew about finger prints. A feeling of indignation rose in him. He _deserved_ to live, and he deserved to live in freedom. How _dare_ they make him think of exile!

The home was warded. It was no barrier to Harry Potter. A sleeping spell was cast, and within a short time, Harry regarded the sleeping form of the man who'd planned to sell him. To _sell_ him. As a _slave!_ He made the spell. Cornelius Fudge died in his sleep. Harry went home, and slept more peacefully than he had since the meeting with Poppy Pomfrey.

The death was reported as natural. The wards hadn't been disturbed, and Fudge had died peacefully, sleeping next to his wife. Wizards were susceptible to heart attacks. They happened without warning, and were almost always fatal. There was no postmortem. Wizards didn't do postmortems.

There was a bit of a stir, and two more candidates for Minister were announced, Vance McKenzie and Gawain Robards, whom Harry had never heard of. The issue of slaves seemed to have been forgotten in the excitement of the pending election. Harry wished he could see Snape, find out what was going on, but didn't dare. Snape could suffer as well as himself if he was seen in his company. There'd been a reward! There probably still was.

***chapter end***


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 13: **_

Vera Chase asked, "Daniel, are you sure?"

"I'd like Ricky to be my brother. And I don't want to wait until the adoption is official."

"So we'll ask him here for a month then? See what happens?"

James said, "Mr. Davies said that when we asked you for a month, that they'd all know an adoption was in prospect."

Daniel nodded, "Chris told me. A week is inspecting the goods, a month just might be serious."

Vera wrinkled her nose, "Inspecting the goods? That is not at all how I saw it. Just that we needed to see how we'd get on. You might not have liked us, we might not have liked you."

"I wish you could have Jason as well, but he's not an orphan."

"He can visit sometimes if you like. After all, he's more your age than Ricky is."

"Ricky's only two years older than I am."

James nodded, "Much older."

Daniel grinned, "Most of us went to the Traynor Festival. There were all sorts of rides. I don't know where they got the money, but he and Chris went on most of them, and had a ball. He was like a little kid."

The weather was beginning to warm up, but Harry felt as if the cold of Winter would not leave him. He worked hard on his school work, had started to run in the morning, and had commenced twice-weekly self-defence lessons, but it was almost as if he was running on automatic. He'd only had one leg cramp since he'd seen Poppy, and hoped the problem had been solved. Wizard healing was very effective. His hair had been touched up, a little browner this time, with streaks of lighter colour. Without the length that had given it weight, it tended to be more untidy. Every day, he carefully concealed the scar on his forehead with women's make-up. He was aware of strangers around. It would be stupid not to be careful, but it was an effort. He had to push himself to do the things he needed to do. He'd had no reply from Amy, and hadn't yet thought of a new girlfriend. He was very depressed.

It was a Friday evening, and as requested, he reported to Davies' office at the stated time. He hoped it wouldn't be to find a counsellor waiting. It shouldn't be Dr. Tan again, as he'd done another follow-up blood test just two days before.

But when the door was opened, and he was cordially invited in, it was to find Vera and James Chase present. Even Daniel, who was grinning all over his face. Harry was delighted. He liked the Chases, and he was fond of Daniel. Maybe he was to be invited for a weekend again, or maybe for a portion of the Easter holidays.

They seemed hesitant to get to the point, instead talking about Dan's progress at swimming, James opening another new shop, this time in London, and mentioning that they'd heard that he was planning on doing a Summer Course. Harry was polite, but puzzled, giving details of the six-week course, and mentioning that there was another also planning on doing a Summer Course. Daniel asked, "Lionel, you mean? He told me he was to do gardening, and you'd be taking him every day."

"He's no good in new situations, but I doubt he'll need shepherding for long. It's only that he gets nervous."

Vera glanced at her husband, and said, "The thing is, Ricky, we'd like you to come to us for a month's stay, the same as Dan did."

Harry glanced at Daniel, and then back at Vera, "A month's stay?" Abruptly, he took a step back, and said, "I can't! You don't know me! You don't want me! It's silly." He started towards the door, feeling panicky.

Ross snapped, "Stop, Ricky. You're being rude."

Harry was quite pale, but gathered himself, turned and apologised, "I didn't mean to be rude. Just that I can't…" He stopped, feeling helpless.

Daniel said, "Ricky, what's the matter? I want you to be my brother. We want you to be part of our family."

Harry shook his head, "There is too much you don't know about me. Too much I will not tell you. I can't be family. I can't be a son."

James nodded, "We do want to adopt you. We have spoken about it, and we're sure. If you truly don't want it, that's different, but if it's because you don't want to talk about your past, we can tolerate that. We know you're a good boy, and if things have happened to you, it's not your fault."

Harry stared at him, and almost whispered, "I'm not a good boy."

James looked at Ross, bewildered. Ross said quietly, "We know you were raped. Maybe they made you do things to avoid being punished. None of that makes you bad. I think you should give it a try."

Harry kept his mouth shut. Would they think he was not bad if they knew he'd killed? But they'd made him! He'd never have killed anyone if they'd only left him alone. He stared at James, not knowing what to do, what to say.

Vera said softly, "What you have done before is not relevant. We are offering you a family, Ricky. Daniel would be your brother. James and I would be like parents, but you could continue to call us Vera and James, or Aunt and Uncle, like Dan does. One day you and Dan will have your own children, and we will be their grandparents. There are cousins, and uncles and aunts. A family. Not just we three, a big family, all of whom you would be a part of. All of whom would be a part of you."

Harry felt dizzy. A family. Aunts and uncles, and cousins and like a mother and father. Dan his brother. He'd always liked Dan. He'd been glad that he'd found a new Mum and Dad. But he couldn't. He took a staggering step toward the door, and fainted.

While Daniel squatted beside Harry, shaking his shoulder anxiously, Ross observed, "That's not the reaction of someone who's not interested."

James asked, "What should we do, Ross?"

"This business of not being good, I wouldn't take too much notice of that, if I were you."

Harry was already starting to stir, and Daniel soothed, "It's all right, Ricky, you don't have to get up yet."

Harry muttered, "Sorry, very stupid."

He still felt awful, and Ross said firmly, "I'm taking you into my sitting room again. You can lie on the couch until you're recovered. Daniel will stay with you."

Harry managed to sit up, Daniel helping him, but was staggery and uncertain as Ross escorted him the short distance to his own sitting room. Helen Davies came in with a questioning look, and Ross said briefly, "Adoption was offered and he fainted."

"Ricky?"

"Yes. Do you mind if I bring the Chases in here? Maybe you could make some coffee?"

"Of course."

James asked, as Ross came back in, "Should we just forget the idea?"

"That is your choice of course. It's obviously not something he'd considered, but you can be confident that he wants it, even if only in the abstract. It's something all the boys want, especially the ones who were orphaned young, as Ricky was. I think the problem is that the abuse he's suffered has made him feel as if he doesn't deserve something good to happen to him."

"He said he was not a good boy."

"I did actually check with our local policeman. There is no hint that Ricky may have been involved in criminal activity, and there's no boys of his age missing from juvenile detention or anything similar."

"What do you think happened when he was missing?"

"I think he probably fought it at first, then gave in, and did what they wanted, maybe to avoid punishment. There could have been more than one man, he might have had to play an active role…" He glanced at Vera, "By that I mean that he may have been forced to give oral sex."

Vera just nodded, and Ross continued, speaking quietly, "We know he escaped, and was on the run for a time. If there had been physical injuries from the actual rape, they were gone by the time he was looked at."

"You told us that, and you said the blood tests show no sign of any infection."

"Another in a month, but physically, he is healthy. Mentally he is scarred. You would have to accept that."

"Do you think he might change his mind?"

"Are _you_ still of the same mind?"

The Davies looked at each other, and Vera said, "When he was at our place, he had a nightmare. He was pleading not to be taken. It broke my heart. And then just a couple of days later, you told us he'd gone. I want to keep him safe. I don't care that he's not an innocent child, as Daniel is. I do want him."

"James?"

James nodded, "I want him."

"Then how about we put no pressure on him, but maybe you could invite him for a few days for the Easter holidays. Just tell him at some stage that when he's ready to visit for a month, he only has to say."

Harry was relieved that he was not pressed for answers, and agreed readily that he would enjoy spending a part of the Easter holidays at the Chases. A few days was not threatening, as a month was. He couldn't imagine anything better than being Ricky Chase, but he was a murderer. They wouldn't want him if they knew he'd killed people. He apologised again for being so stupid, and laughed at himself, "I've never fainted in my life!"

The laugh was false. He'd been offered a family, and he couldn't have it. It hurt.

****

James hauled himself out of bed to answer the phone. It was past midnight. Traynor Police Station, Sergeant Bill Conroy was calling. A group of youths had been picked up as drunk and disorderly. One was Ricky Drayton. They'd given his name as someone who would pick them up and take them home. James said, startled, "Ricky named me?"

Conroy said dryly, "Ricky is currently passed out on the shoulder of a young man who closely resembles a gorilla. It was another who named you. He says that you want to adopt Ricky."

"Did he say that Ricky refused?"

"He didn't say that. They seem to think that if you care about Ricky, you might take all of them home for the night, and then they won't get into trouble with Ross Davies."

James laughed, and said, "I'll come. Who are the others?"

"Ian Badham, aged seventeen, Chris Vale and Lionel Wickham, eighteen."

"Have you charged them?"

"No. If you pick them up, they can go."

"Ten minutes. Are any likely to be sick in the car?"

"Probably not."

James shook his head. Maybe it was a reality check. Having sons would not be all plain sailing.

As Conroy had said, Ricky was fast asleep, his head on the shoulder of Ian, who looked pure thug, but had a protective arm around his friend. The four were sitting on a hard bench, and while Ian and Chris were reasonably alert, Lionel was on the end, and had his head back against the wall, also asleep.

Conroy asked, "James Chase?"

James nodded, and Conroy said, "A little paperwork in my office. You boys stay here." The two still awake, nodded.

Once in the other office, Conroy asked, "Do you know of Ricky's history?"

"I know."

"Has he spoken of what happened to him?"

"He won't talk."

Conroy shrugged, "I wondered. I'm surprised you want to adopt him, considering."

"He refused, but that he said anything about me… It gives me hope."

"It was one of the others asked for you. Ricky was in the bathroom at the time, being very ill."

"Oh, dear."

Conroy laughed, and said, "He was rambling about being a freak, so I tried to get him to tell me his history, but he turned all dignified and said, slurring his words quite considerably mind, that it was not fair to ask questions when he was drunk. And after that, he wouldn't say a word."

"Did they commit any offences?"

"Only that they were in the park, being very loud, and of course, Ian and Ricky are both underage for drinking."

"Thank you for calling me. May I take them now?"

"You may," and he chuckled, "Good luck."

The boys were retrieved without incident, Lionel and Ricky put to bed, but both Ian and Chris accepted the offer of coffee. James was bent on finding out more about the intriguing boy he wanted, and both Ian and Chris were feeling relaxed and talkative. James led the conversation to Kreighley, what it was like to live there, and Ian said, "I nearly went to Juvy, you know. But they gave me a break. If the copper had charged me last night, I might still go to Juvy."

"Juvy? A detention centre?"

"I was in one before. The screws'll knock you around, given half an excuse. Kreighley's a resthome."

James asked in a casual voice, "What did you do?"

"Half-killed my step-father, but he'd been knocking me around, and then he hit my Mum. I reckon he deserved it, and I think the judge agreed, and that's why I'm here instead."

"But you'd been in detention before?"

"That was for stealing cars. I made a lot of money for my uncle, stealing cars. I reckoned I'd better stop after that. Ricky says it's stupid to commit crimes to make money for other people."

Chris said, "He's a good bloke, Ricky. He just thinks he's not."

James asked, "What was it about being a freak."

"He said it was carved into his chest with a knife, so he'd remember always that he was only a worthless freak."

Ian added, "He showed us. He took off his shirt, and pointed out where the letters had been. He said he was only little, and when he couldn't read what it said because of the blood, and because it was in the mirror, he was punished again."

"He said it was why he couldn't be adopted, because you're good people, and he's a no-good freak."

They stayed up talking for a long time, only retiring to bed when Vera appeared, and firmly pointed them to their rooms. James was left with a lot to think of. Both Chris and Ian had been knocked about as kids, and Chris showed several scars on his arms which he said came from cigarette burns. They'd both learned crime as a way of life, but it appeared neither had been in any real trouble since they'd come to Kreighley. He remembered what Chris had said, that Ricky had told him that crime was a mug's game, because unless you were very clever indeed, you always got caught in the end. It appeared that neither was planning on a life as career criminals, and maybe it was largely thanks to Ricky.

Ricky. There were mental scars as Ross had said there would be. He was a 'freak,' he thought. There had once been the letters actually scratched into his chest. It was nearly dawn before he slept again.

Harry was confused to wake in an unfamiliar room. A large bedroom, nicely decorated, separated from another large room by an open archway. It seemed to be a study, lined with cupboards and shelves. He didn't remember such a room at the Chases' place, but he was fairly sure that was where they'd all gone. He had no idea why. Last night…. He'd never been drunk before, luckily not too drunk to work a spell before they got into a fight with five of the local youths. Ian couldn't risk a charge of assault. With his looks, he'd always be assumed guilty whether or not the other one hit first.

He looked around at the second bed in the room, and discovered Lionel lying next to it, on the floor, but snoring loudly. He wrinkled his nose. Lionel had been sick in the night. As there was no-one watching, he vanished the mess, and made a deodorising spell. Vera didn't deserve to have her nice home dirtied. Lionel still wore his shirt and trousers, though his shoes had been removed. It was the same for himself. He made a spell to clean the clothes, but left them rumpled. He never made his magic noticeable.

Lionel was stirring by the time he returned from his shower, and he showed him the bathroom, explained that they were at the Chases, and was unsympathetic when he complained of a headache. He had a slight headache himself, but thought he deserved far worse. Wizards should never allow themselves to become drunk, especially wizards who didn't need a wand to work magic. He could have wreaked havoc, but he remembered only becoming stupidly talkative, and then very sleepy.

He found Chris and Ian in the guestroom he knew, but they were unresponsive when he tried to wake them, and he gave up. Daniel appeared, wearing pyjamas, and said, "Auntie Vera said you were here."

Harry admitted, "I'm not quite sure why we're here. James and Vera are not responsible for our conduct."

"Were you really drunk?"

Harry nodded, "Very," and Lionel said, "We were cheering Ricky up."

Harry looked at him, amused, "Is that why you wouldn't take no for an answer?"

"Ian said as soon as you lined yourself up a new girlfriend, you'd be fine."

Harry grinned, "I think you're right. It's ages since Catherine." His headache was gone, and he was feeling more cheerful than he had since January. He was probably in trouble, but maybe getting thoroughly drunk had something to recommend it after all.

Ross Davies thanked Vera Chase for letting him know that she had four of his boys. They hadn't been missed yet, but he knew he would have been very worried about Ricky. "James happened to bump into them and invited them home."

Ross chuckled, "Really?"

Vera laughed as well, "I suppose I'd best tell you the truth. It wasn't very serious, after all."

Half an hour later, there would be another phone call, this time from Bill Conroy, also concerned that Ross might think that Ricky had been found by his enemies. Ross asked, "Did you grab the opportunity of questioning him?"

"He was very drunk, but stopped talking at the first question. He'd been muttering that he was a freak, and didn't deserve such good friends."

Meantime, Harry was apologising to Vera Chase for their presence, and assuring her that they were fine to walk home just as soon as he could wake Chris and Ian. Vera said calmly that James had kept them up talking, and maybe best to let them all sleep for now.

Daniel asked, "Are we still going to church then?"

"I will, but I'll leave James, and you can stay as well if you like."

"I'd like that. It's nice being with the others sometimes."

"Then maybe you can organise breakfast for the invasion. I'll speak to James."

James appeared looking very bleary-eyed a little later, just as Vera drove out. Church was a Sunday morning ritual in the Chase family, though Daniel didn't look at all unhappy to be missing it. He was laughing at Lionel, who was trying to repeat a joke someone had told him. He invariably forgot the punch-line when he told jokes, but as long as someone laughed, he was happy.

Ian appeared, smelling sour and looking wrinkled, and Daniel quickly got up to show him where the guest shower was. Harry was surprised to find that James took their presence for granted, didn't seem upset by the occasional profanity escaping their lips, and seemed to think their shameful behaviour not very serious.

Once Ian and Chris reappeared, both looking unshaven but otherwise clean, James told them that Mr. Davies knew what had happened, and added, "So I'm afraid that any story of a casual invitation will not suffice to get you out of trouble."

Daniel asked, "What's the latest punishment project?"

Harry answered, "That old shed behind Ray's place. It's all been tidied out, courtesy of some noisy horseplay among the young ones, and now there's talk of painting it. I reckon we'll be painting this afternoon."

James was curious, "He has you do jobs for punishments?"

Ian laughed, "A hell of a lot better than a thrashing!"

"What if he has someone who just won't take orders?"

Harry said calmly, "Most of us know when we're well off. I doubt if anyone would risk open defiance."

Vera Chase conscientiously tried to listen to a tedious sermon, but her mind persisted in wandering to what was going on at home. She hoped James would be able to cope with them. She hoped there wouldn't be too much damage. She hoped nothing would go missing, but maybe Ricky would keep them in line. She had the idea from Daniel that he was somewhat of a leader. Had he led them on a drunken spree? It didn't seem like the reserved young man she knew.

Two hours later, she arrived home, startled and worried at the shouts she could hear. It was better when she distinguished laughter. All the same, she was cautious as she followed the noise, and peered into the poolroom from a position out of sight.

She smiled at the sight of her husband sitting on the edge of the pool, grinning at the rowdy game of ball in the pool. He was stark naked, and when some of the boys started swimming after the ball, she realised not even Daniel wore swimmers. It made sense, she supposed. There were no women around, and the boys hadn't come prepared for an overnight visit. The biggest one leapt out of the water, grabbing the ball, but was ducked by Ricky and her Dan acting as a team. He let go the ball, and Daniel grabbed it, and was streaking away, with Ricky running interference on those who chased him. There was a roar when the ball went through a pair of chairs at the end, presumably the goal. The room seemed to echo, amplifying the noise. Vera stepped away, out of sight. Daniel would be mortified if he knew she'd seen him naked. James strolled unhurriedly to retrieve the ball for them, and Vera decided to check on lunch. It looked fairly obvious that there would be company.

Twenty minutes later, the game was still on. Vera thought she shouldn't watch, but it was an attractive sight, even when the echoing shouts made her wince sometimes. Did they have to whoop whenever there was a goal? None of the boys were either weedy or chubby. They looked strong and healthy, and really quite beautiful. And Ricky. It was no wonder that men wanted him. It was not just his build, but the way he moved. He had an athletic grace that set him apart from the others. She shook her head, and wondered how to call them to lunch without betraying the fact that she'd been watching them. Maybe she'd best wait.

She waited patiently for an hour before James and the boys arrived, laughing and happy.

They left shortly after lunch, walking together, jostling each other, teasing each other. Daniel had suggested he come too, just to say hello, but Ricky said they were probably in disgrace and due for a roaring at. Maybe he'd best come another time.

Left behind, Vera said to James, "They're not bad kids are they? Any of them."

"You know Ian, the big one who looks like a born criminal? He was looking after Ricky last night, just picked him up like he was a child, and put him to bed. He was gentle. Told him not to worry waking up, he was quite safe with his mates."

"Lionel?"

"Was also looked after. They treat him as one of themselves, and make allowances when needed. I'm beginning to think that Daniel could easily miss being one of the Kreighley boys. They're loyal to each other."

"Maybe it's part of the reason that Ricky's reluctant to come to us."

"We talked a long time last night, Chris, Ian and I. They said that Ricky said we were nice people, and he was just a useless freak. It's like Ross told us, that when kids are badly abused, they wind up thinking themselves worthless."

"Persevere, you think?"

"I'd be proud to call Ricky my son."

Meantime, four boys were being rebuked by Adam, who was trying to be firm, and not show his nervousness, and then set to work washing down walls of a shed in preparation for painting. Ray was watching with satisfaction, and once Adam had gone, asked, "Would you like some grog for next weekend as well? I want it painted before Summer."

Lionel said eagerly, "I'll like to help."

Harry said, "Not me. I won't get into Uni if I spend weekends painting instead of studying."

Ray asked, "Whip any local kids?"

Chris said, "We were going to, but Ricky said we were only allowed if Ian went home first."

Some time later, the talk evolved into which girls might be available for Ricky to date. His mates were still bent on having him cheered up. Harry thought he was already cheered up. So he'd killed a man. It had been necessary. He was Harry Potter, and when attacked, he _would_ fight!

***chapter end***


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 14: **_

On Monday, Ian nudged Chris and pointed. Ricky was talking with three girls. As they watched, he ruffled his own hair, grinning. One of the girls reached out and touched it as well, then the other two. Chris said, "He'll have a new girlfriend by tonight, wait and see."

"No-one works that fast. I've never even seen him with those girls."

"A fiver on it?"

"I would if I had a fiver."

Anne said, "We wondered when you were going to ask someone out for a date."

Megan added, "It's been about two months, hasn't it? Must be a record for you."

"I was sick for a bit, remember?"

Megan asked, "When was it that Cathy dumped you?"

"Right before Baxters' New Year's Eve party. I've been lonely since then."

"Why did she dump you, anyway?"

Harry shrugged, "Teenage dating is for fun and enjoyment. I guess she decided someone else would be more fun."

"She went with Pete for a bit, and now she says she has someone outside of school."

Sarah was the third of the girls. She was chubby, with a plain, freckled face. She was known to be a 'brain.' She said, "Mum tells me I have to make my Debut, even if she has to tell my brother to partner me. If you can dance, and if you like, you can be my partner."

Harry smiled dazzlingly, "I'd like that, but I can't dance."

"Neither can I, but there are rehearsals, and they teach you enough not to disgrace yourself."

Harry turned to face her fully, "Sarah, will you do me the honour of accepting me as your partner?" He rather spoiled it by asking, "What is a Debut, anyway?"

After the required explanations, Megan said airily, "Of course, we've all signed the Virginity Pledge that's doing the rounds."

"I heard about that. I couldn't for the life of me work out why you'd want to do that."

"Because sex is a serious thing, and reserved for marriage? It's for boys too, you know."

Harry shook his head, "Sex is the most wonderful thing in the world, and most of us won't get married for years yet. Why miss out on years of pleasure? Besides, what if some of us don't ever marry? Or what if we die early?"

Megan asked, "Do you still want to go out with Sarah, even though she's vowed to remain a virgin?"

Harry said with aplomb, "Of course. I've always liked Sarah."

Sarah laughed, "You scarcely know me!"

Harry smiled winningly, "You're ace at tennis, you routinely top the class even in Physics and such, and you have a brother a couple of years older than you are."

Sarah raised her eyebrows, "I'm impressed."

Anne said, "That Virginity Pledge. Mandy was the first to sign."

Megan asked, "_Is_ Mandy a virgin, Ricky?"

Harry shrugged, "If she says so, then I expect she's a virgin."

"Cathy?"

"If she says so."

The girls laughed, and Megan said ironically, "Of course."

Wednesday evening was the first of the Debut rehearsals and dance instruction. Sarah and Harry concentrated on learning the simple but stately dance. Afterwards they went to the only place in Traynor that stayed open until midnight. They talked and laughed, and Harry gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before turning to walk home. Sarah said demurely, "By the way, what they said about us signing the Virginity Pledge? It was not altogether true."

Harry swung around, "May I kiss you again then?" This time there was no 'chaste' about it. All they needed was someplace warm and dry to go, which they didn't have. They were both shivering with the cold by the time they parted.

The next day, they met for lunch, talked of politics, spoke of the inadequacy of the library, Ricky's difficulty with Maths after missing so much time, and several other subjects before referring to the twice-weekly dance lessons and rehearsals. When the warning bell rang to indicate the end of the lunch hour, Harry asked, "May I call you girlfriend then?"

Sarah smiled smugly, "You may."

Sarah was plain, and knew it. She'd never had a boyfriend, and suspected that she might never marry. She had no intention of remaining a virgin. For her eighteenth birthday, her father had promised to buy her a car. She'd already reserved her choice, a small Kombi van, suitable for sleeping in, 'camping' as she told her father. Her father was indifferent. He'd been divorced for eight years, and had never been particularly interested in his disappointing daughter. Daughters were supposed to be pretty and charming, not plain and boring.

Nine days later, a Saturday, was a good day in Harry's world. As was his Saturday morning custom, he apparated to Potter Manor, and skimmed over the week's copies of the main Aniragi papers and magazines. The major news was that Amelia Bones had won the Election. Included in her victory speech, as reported in the Daily prophet, was a warning that she was determined to put a stop to all forms of ill-treatment of Muggles, especially including the keeping of slaves, 'Though it is known to be rare.' Harry hoped it was true that it was rare. He'd never heard of it until recently, but had begin to think it must be quite common.

Business-wise, Gr. Vlasna reported that he'd managed to procure enough shares in the Daily Prophet to take his ownership to 33%, and that of the Informer to 8%. Other investments were doing well. If he chose, he could live very comfortably on the proceeds of his investments. If he ate just a little into the capital, he could live as a jetsetting superstar. And yet, if certain wizards had their way, he'd live with a collar around his neck. It was lucky that the goblins did not allow the Ministry of Magic to take his money. Whatever a wizard's crimes, unless against the Goblins themselves, Gringotts was safe for their money.

His other Saturday routine was two hours solid practice with his knife. He was improving all the time now, and thought he wouldn't need the aid of magic to kill with it. And again he racked his brains as to how to procure a hand-gun. He knew nothing of guns, and though he suspected that several of the Kreighley boys would be able to procure a gun without trouble, provided they had the money, he would not encourage any of them in crime. He gave up on the idea, and instead, visited a tailor. The few suits shared around by the Kreighley boys, whenever needed, were only adequate. He had to be presentable for the Deb Ball, which would be at the end of April.

Harry was thrilled with Sarah. She was witty, sexy, and with a rare common sense. There were some catty remarks from a few others of the girls, that the best-looking boy in the year had been nabbed by the least popular girl in the year. Sarah hadn't been invited to the party that had spelled the end of Harry's relationship with Catherine. She'd rarely been invited anywhere. It was even unusual that she'd happened to be talking to Anne and Megan when Harry had joined them.

Sarah was very happy with Ricky. She ignored the rumours that his absence in January was because he'd run away to be with a man, and instead, enjoyed his intelligence that matched hers, and enjoyed being treated as someone who mattered. It wasn't at all bad having a good-looking partner for the Deb Ball either, and his dancing was improving rapidly, along with hers. And sex! She'd been wanting to try it for years, but no-one had asked. Tonight.

At the time planned, she rolled up to the Boys' Home in her new van, ready to take him to dancing lessons, and to a disco after. By the end of the night, she was no longer virgin, and had decided that it was as Ricky said, it was good. Next time, it might even be better.

****

The Easter holidays commenced, both for Hogwarts and for Traynor High. Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, relaxed in the lounge-room, talking with his son about his studies. Tony was in fifth year. His mother was out for the evening. Tony changed the subject, "Some of the boys were using a spell on everyone, the _Sylph Virgo_ spell."

Vance raised his eyebrows, "That spell's illegal."

"It's the one they used on Harry Potter, isn't it? To make sure he was untouched? He had to be _shining white."_

"That's right. For use in the Cerlikh Ritual, the boy or girl has to be quite innocent, untouched." He added ironically, "I doubt if that ritual will ever be used again, what with the result!"

"We were laughing, joking. Most of us expected it to show a bit pink, like. Then Hadrian used it on Lindon Edgecombe. He's always been teased that he looks like Harry used to. The glow was red, with a big black streak. He couldn't understand it, then I think he did. Anyway, he walked out of the room, very quick."

McKenzie nodded, and said grimly, "Red with a black streak. It indicates that he'd been raped."

"Anyway, I was worried then about myself. There was something years ago, that I could never work out. So I went somewhere very private first. I was afraid of what it would show. It was all right, though. No black streaks."

Vance was seriously worried, "What do you mean, something years ago?"

"I should have told you, but it frightened me to think of it, and I never told anyone."

McKenzie asked softly, persuasively, "What was it, Tony?"

"It was the morning after Dumbledore died. I woke late, not knowing that he was dead. I had this memory, but not really a memory. It was very vague, like a dream. Just that I was sitting on this enormous bed, waiting and waiting. I had to wait. I remember that. I just had to wait. And then there's this picture of the face of the headmaster, looking up from the floor, his eyes open. Not moving. I don't remember anything else, but when I woke that morning, I wasn't dressed as I normally would for bed. I wasn't sore or anything, so I guess I just put it out of my head. But then Lindon, and I heard later there was another, the same. People stopped casting it then, though maybe they did on themselves, in privacy."

McKenzie took a deep breath before starting to explain. "We always thought Dumbledore was a wonderful man, but he wasn't. He used Mind-Magic, so people thought he was wiser and more trustworthy than he was. It's how he persuaded everyone to go along with the criminal plan to hand Harry over to Voldemort. Mind-Magic and lies. In the plan he related to me, for instance, Harry would never have been in any real danger, and he swore to me that the boy had consented to act as bait. That he was eager, even. I accused him of using Mind-Magic not long afterwards. I suspect that he planned to rape you as some sort of revenge on me for saying that. But he was an old man. What you describe sounds as if you were under the Imperius Curse. He intended to rape you, but had a heart attack instead, maybe from the excitement."

"So his intention to rape me, killed him."

"It sounds like it."

"Good."

After a pause, Tony asked, "Would he have been _able_ to rape?"

"I have no doubt that he would have used a Virility potion."

Tony remarked, "A lot of the kids say that Harry killed him, somehow."

"He didn't. I'm sure of it."

"If he'd been accused, I would have had to tell someone."

"Yes."

Tony shivered, "It makes me feel dirty, that he wanted to. I must have been naked, I think, and just waiting for him."

"I think so too."

"Do you think he raped other kids?"

"He's dead now. It might be best not to try and uncover things."

"What if other men do it? In Detention, for instance, all alone with a teacher?"

"I might talk to the headmistress, I think. Maybe that spell should be used far more often, but by the nurse."

"If a boy is raped, surely he'd be hurt?"

"Almost always, I'd say. But maybe often they wouldn't say anything. Too embarrassing."

"Harry said something."

"When Harry was found, he was naked, and in deep shock. There was blood. There was never an opportunity to pretend nothing had happened."

"He would have felt dirtied."

McKenzie said nothing, and after a bit, Tony said, "Hadrian says that even if he hadn't been turned into a Muggle, no-one could ever respect him. Because he'd been raped, so he wasn't worth respecting. It nearly happened to me, but no-one knows. It did happen to Lindon, even if he can't remember, and people saw the red and black aura. Are people going to stop respecting him?"

"It is a foolish attitude. By definition, rape is not by choice. All the same, we will not tell anyone how close you came."

Tony gave a sigh of relief, "Thanks, Dad."

"As for Harry, I don't think Muggles are as extreme in their attitude to rape victims. He'll be fine as long as he stays in the Muggle world."

"How can he really be fine? Losing your magic, - it must be like losing an arm or a leg, or going blind, maybe."

"I can't imagine it either."

****

When Harry went to the Chases for a few days toward the end of the holidays, he was shown to the same spacious rooms that he'd shared with Lionel. This time, Jason was to share. Jason and Daniel promptly disappeared together, and Vera asked, "Would you like to see my special books, Ricky?" Harry liked books, and wondered what Vera would make of the Hogwarts books, or indeed, his own collection. He had a suspicion that some of the Muggle books in the old section might be very valuable.

Harry was treated with all consideration and they didn't make him uncomfortable by speaking of adoption, except that James mentioned that they still wanted him, and all he had to do was say if he changed his mind. "The room was prepared for you, your study, your bedroom, even if you only visit sometimes."

Harry smiled, "I would like to visit sometimes."

At dinner the second night, Vera said, "We thought we'd visit London tomorrow, stay overnight, spend the full day there, and return by the night train. There is an auction that James and I want to go to, but otherwise we'll do what you boys want."

Harry said quietly, "It sounds great, but I'm afraid I cannot go to London."

James looked up, "London's a big place. You're hardly likely to bump into anyone you don't want to."

"I prefer not to go to any big places. You go, of course. I can simply return home. I won't mind."

"No, we won't go. It's not important. Maybe a day at Falmouth instead? A tourist cruise?"

Harry was grateful. It was only later, when the visit was over, that he found himself in Davies' office with Ross Davies, Ruth Grierson, and the policeman, Bill Conroy. He was tense, but tried not to show it. Ross started, speaking kindly, "This is not an official police interview, Ricky. We're simply concerned for you."

Conroy said firmly, "No-one is above the law, Ricky. We can protect you. If those men who have hurt you can be apprehended, they'll be put away and won't be able to hurt anyone any more."

Davies again, "James said that you were afraid to go to London, even though London's population is such that it would be a miracle for you to be recognised by the men you fear."

Ruth said softly, "You cannot live your life in fear, Ricky. You have to tell us what happened to you."

Harry was silent, and they repeated their arguments. He finally sighed, "I do not believe that you can protect me. My prudent course is simply to stay anonymous, and avoid places where these men are likely to see me."

"Why do they want you?"

Harry shrugged. Ruth said, "There have been enquiries at Children's Homes up and down the country."

Conroy said firmly, "Your best protection is to have them behind bars. If you refuse to act, you take the responsibility that they are hurting other boys."

"I cannot protect other boys. It is not my responsibility to do so. All I can do is protect myself, as well as I can. I will not tell you anything you don't already know or have guessed."

Conroy asked, "Have you hurt any of these men? Is that the problem? If so, it would be self-defence."

Harry knew perfectly well that to plead self-defence under Muggle law, one had to have been in immediate fear of death. Of the three wizards he'd killed this year, two would not fulfill the criteria. Under Muggle law, he'd be guilty of murder. He stared at the floor. He'd killed three, rendered three impotent, and sterilised several. He asked, "Have there been enquiries in the last fortnight, Mrs. Grierson?"

"Not in the last fortnight, no."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Amelia Bones was Minister for Magic now. Maybe she was being effective. He stood, "Maybe they've lost interest. I'm getting a little old for their taste, maybe. May I go now?"

Conroy said abruptly, "Sit down, Drayton. I have not finished."

Harry sat, resigned, as he was subjected to a lecture on irresponsibility.

Ross waited until Conroy was finished, before asking, "Is it a well-known member of parliament who wants you, Ricky? A magistrate or lawyer? Royalty even? Is that why you think he's immune from prosecution?"

Conroy said again, "No-one is immune from prosecution."

Harry waited, and Ross raised his eyebrows at Conroy. Ruth said softly, "Ricky, if you don't tell us what we need to know, I'm not sure we can keep you here."

"Do you plan to betray me, Mrs. Grierson? If so, please tell me now, and I will start running again."

Ross said, "Ruth would not betray you. And you're the same as anyone else, you can stay until you're eighteen, and have finished your schooling."

"Thank you, Mr. Davies."

Ruth confirmed, but curtly, "As Mr. Davies said."

"It is April now. I'll be leaving in just a few months in any case. I won't be your concern then."

Ruth nodded, "You may go, Ricky. I will continue to keep it very quiet that I know where you are."

"Thank you, Mrs. Grierson." He left quietly, relieved to be away, but worrying that maybe leaving would be the right thing anyway. He didn't trust that Mrs. Grierson.

He had nightmares again that night. Ross Davies also slept badly, and as he often did, wandered the grounds. He felt such a responsibility to his boys. Ricky was on his mind, but Ricky wasn't the only one. Young Ethan, who'd thrown a chair through a window in a fit of temper, and then turned into a cowering mass of terror, waiting for the whipping. Mark, who'd vanished again. He'd be with his Aunt. In a day or two, he'd send Adam to collect him. Stephen Seabrook, a new arrival. His parents had destroyed themselves with drugs, and he'd been raised by his grandparents. Just a minor incident of vandalism, and they'd declared they didn't want him any more. Did people realise how devastating it was for a child when he understood that _no-one_ loved him? The new one he'd be having shortly, as soon as his custodial sentence was concluded. Seventeen, and he'd been in trouble for fighting fellow inmates. Yet he deserved a chance. They all deserved a chance.

He wasn't surprised to find Ricky standing on the clifftop, staring down onto the beach. It was a windy night, and his blonde hair was very tousled. He went and joined him. Ricky greeted him, and they spoke of the wild night, and the wreck that was not far away. Some of it could still be seen when the tide was especially low. Ross asked, "Have you spoken to Stephen yet?"

"Jason and Jeremiah are looking after him. He'll be all right."

"They threw him out, just because of some graffiti."

Ricky grinned, "He was boasting about it. According to him, he scaled a twelve foot fence with barbed wire on the top, avoided several vicious guard dogs, and risked his life getting to the most difficult truck in the yard."

"Will he do it again, do you think?"

"No idea."

Ross dropped his voice, "The one who came here looking for you referred to you as Harry Potter."

"Mrs. Grierson would know that, I presume. Do the police?"

"I have not told Officer Conroy, and there has been nothing official."

"If Mrs. Grierson makes noises about him being the same as Ricky Drayton, then I will not last long. I was wondering whether I should run now, and not wait for trouble. Only that there's Sarah. She'd be upset if I vanished before her Debut."

"Sarah is your girlfriend?"

Harry smiled, thinking of Sarah, "She's wonderful! It's not the same as the others. They were fun, good to be with, but Sarah is different. I don't think I've ever been able to talk to anyone like I can with Sarah."

Ross asked curiously, "Have you told her about your past?"

"I can't tell anyone that. I'm just grateful she doesn't ask."

Ross said, "Ruth Grierson assured me that she will not be careless with information about your whereabouts. She feels quite guilty about demanding your birth certificate."

"May I stay here until I start University next year then?"

"You'll still only be sixteen. It's young to leave home."

"I'll be turning seventeen."

"Still want to go to Oxford?"

"Falmouth will suit me fine."

"No longer thinking of running then?"

"It's too lonely. I don't want to run."

"If you do decide you need to leave, could you leave a note or something? I hate to think of you in their hands again."

"If you warn me if Mrs. Grierson does something more to compromise my safety."

"I really don't think she will."

Harry said distrustfully, "I hope not."

Ruth Grierson refrained from making any further enquiries about Harry Potter, being distracted by the court case involving the Bates Cult children, and then by the sudden arrival of a pretty girl in her early teens, claiming amnesia.

****

Harry sat in a comfortable armchair at Potter Manor, checking over the week's supply of newspapers. There had been several Disciplinary Hearings, and there were several names listed, men who'd been convicted of 'interfering with' female Muggles. Harry guessed rape. The only names he knew from his own experience were those of the brothers, Cormac and Tiberius McLaggen. The fines seemed moderate, but at least they had been fined. There had also been a trial, and this time the penalty had been a term in Azkaban. Norman Figg had been convicted of keeping a slave. In an aside, it was mentioned that she'd been obliviated and freed.

There was little other news, but he scanned the births, deaths and marriages. He thought it good policy to keep up. With Voldemort's memories as well as his own, he was beginning to recognise most of the names he saw, at least have some idea of who they were. Bill Weasley and his wife had had a baby, he noted, and Zacharius Parkinson had entered into a new Marriage Bond. He raised his eyebrows, - Zacharius Parkinson was _old!_ He'd been too old to be bothered recruiting as a Death Eater, though Voldemort had Marked every other adult Parkinson, even some of the women. Parkinsons were one of the old Pure-blood lines, a Vanie family. They must have been almost wiped out by what Severus had called his 'little tantrum.' Maybe Zacharius was trying for a replacement heir. Even with a Virility potion, he might not manage. Presumably the bride was young, but as a species, Anirage were simply not very fertile.

There was another article about Parkinson and his new bride in _Witch Weekly._ The bride looked to be only about sixteen, her name was Lisa Turpin, and she was looking at her new husband with adoration. A Marriage Bond would do that, of course, maybe one of the ones that was stronger for the bride than the husband. Old Parkinson's expression was one of possessive pride, not love. The Turpins were Pure-bloods, but not a Vanie family. Lisa's first son, if she managed one, would be Van Parkinson.

Harry's knowledge of Marriage Bonds was from Voldemort. He no longer thrust aside those memories as he had once. If the wizarding world was likely to attack him, he needed as much ammunition as he could get. He finally stretched, put aside the papers, which would be filed and kept, and went to the practice area outside to practise throwing his knife.

Some hours later, he was meticulously dressed in his suit, he held a small gift in his hand for Sarah, and he waited outside Kreighley to be picked up by Vera and James Chase, who'd decided to treat the Deb Ball as something major in the life of someone important to them, even if not a son. Harry felt a little embarrassed at their enthusiasm, and oddly pleased as well.

Vera Chase squeezed her husband's hand as Sarah sank into a curtsey in front of Lord and Lady Treadley. Ricky bowed the prescribed amount, and together they stepped back. He looked beautiful, she thought, all dressed up. Sarah looked nice as well, though she was surprised he was not with one of the prettier girls. In her experience, it was all that teenage boys ever looked for, but Ricky was in love. It was perfectly obvious to her. She murmured, "I've spoken to Sarah's mother, and she's promised to order extra photos for me."

Harry returned to his place in line, and they waited as the final few debutantes were introduced to the local nobility.

Then the first formal dance was completed, and others could join in the dancing. Harry said, "Your Mum looks very proud."

Sarah laughed, "I think it's the first time she's been proud of me, and for something completely, ridiculously old-fashioned."

"Vera Chase is acting like she's my Mum, and proud of me. It feels really weird."

"When did you lose your parents?"

"I was very small. I can remember the _feeling_ I think sometimes, of having someone hold me, but I can't remember their faces."

"And then came all those years you won't talk about."

Harry was silent for a while, as they danced, then he kissed her on the cheek, and whispered, "I am damaged, Sarah. I can't talk of those years, and I can't trust as I should be able to. I will not be a son to Vera and James, and I will never marry. I will understand if you think better of being with me."

Sarah said in a casual voice, "I'm happier than I've ever been. It would be silly to give that up for the lack of a future we're too young to worry about in any case."

He drew her closer, and murmured, "You came with your Mum, and I came with the Chases. It means we don't have your Kombi to retire to."

"There's always another time."

There was an interval, and Harry and Sarah joined the Chases, who were chatting to Sarah's mother, and another couple. Vera smiled at Harry, "Dance with me, next? You should circulate."

"Circulate?"

"Of course you should. A dance or two with several other of the girls, but save the close ones for the lady of your choice."

Sarah said, smiling, "And the last set, of course."

Obediently, Harry danced with Vera, then Sarah's Mum, Sarah again, then Rose, who was in his year, and a couple of the other debutantes, a year or so younger. One haughtily turned him down, "You're trash. My father told me."

Harry raised his eyebrows, "Who is your father?"

"Sir Reginald Smythe. He's a City Councillor. He says Kreighley is a breeding house for criminals, and your suit is probably stolen."

"A pleasant man, obviously."

The younger girl next to her, said eagerly, "I'd be happy to dance with you, Ricky. I don't think your suit is stolen."

Harry turned to her, trying to remember her name. She said, "I'm Sue, Penny's sister. Dad's a bit stupid sometimes."

"Will you get into trouble for dancing with me, Sue?"

She giggled, "I might. He'll burst a blood vessel when he sees me dancing with you."

Harry laughed, "You're brave."

A few minutes later, he murmured to Sue, "Is that him? The man standing with Lord Treadley?"

"That's him."

"They're both looking at me crossly."

"Don't worry about it."

"I won't. Thanks for dancing with me."

Sue giggled, "You're the cutest guy in the room. My friends are drooling!"

Harry laughed. Life was a little strange sometimes. He was goodlooking, so wizards thought of having him as a sex slave, and fourteen-year-old girls were 'drooling.' The good with the bad, he supposed. He asked mischievously, "Should I return you formally to your parents, maybe bow and kiss your hand?"

Sue giggled, and nodded. The little performance was greeted with a cold silence from her mother, and steam from her father, though he could say nothing in the circumstances. It was not as if the boy had done anything wrong. Penelope looked at her father nervously, and Sue giggled again. She might have to put up with a tongue lashing later, but it had been worth it.

****

Severus Snape wondered how Harry was getting on. There had been no further contact, so he assumed he was all right. He didn't think he was being watched any more, but it was still safer for the boy and for himself if he had no contact. So lucky that Cornelius Fudge had died like that. Just like Scrimgeour… He paused in his action of turning a page of his book, - just like Dumbledore. Just _who_ had been the mysterious helper that Harry had spoken of? Could he still be helping? Once he'd played with the thought that Harry had managed somehow to retain his magic, and escape by himself. He still didn't know how he'd managed to access Diagon Alley that last time…

He shook his head. It would be easy enough to follow someone else through the Leaky Cauldron entry, or maybe simply ask Tom. Tom was an obliging fellow. And Harry had been quite severely beaten up at his school, and when Liddicombe had attacked, he'd retaliated with a knife, not a wand. It was clear that Harry had no magic. He was still a wizard, and would have wizard children. They should realise that. That Harry Potter, who'd defeated the Dark Lord, had been deemed a Muggle, and nearly taken as a slave, - it offended him. Gerion Potter had been one of the Vanie, for goodness sake! Did Harry even know about the Vanie? It wasn't taught at school, and the titles were not in common use except among the Pure-blood families. He only knew himself, because he'd been a Death Eater. Voldemort had tried for as many representatives of the Vanie families as possible, though few of the actual Vanie had been recruited, or even their direct heirs.

Hermione Granger was only just learning about the Vanie. It was a letter from the one whom she hoped to marry, Vayden Carlyle. _My grandfather is __Van__ Reginald Carlyle. When he dies, my father is the Carlyle Vanie, then my brother, Linley. If I was the heir, then I could not consider marrying a Muggle-born. The name of the family is too important. As a younger son, my grandfather will probably give permission, but it is not yet certain, and maybe only after Linley has a son or two. I cannot make any undertakings. _

_It occurs to me that you may not even know about the Vanie. There are twenty-one families left now, as some have died out, and two were wiped out in the Cerlikh Catastrophe. They are nobility, like Lords in the Muggle world. The Vanie carry enormous power, though it is far from blatant. A Vanie's place on the Wizemgamot is automatic, as long as he has reached the age of thirty. (You may not like it, but the Vanie is always male.) I'm not even sure that the current Minister for Magic knows about the Vanie. It is knowledge kept only for the Pure-blood families, and the Bones family is tainted, though some generations back. I must ask you not to pass it on. Father would be very annoyed with me for telling you. _

Hermione put down the letter. For all her reading, she'd never heard the term. She knew that some Pure-blood families were very influential, but like _Lords?_ It had become clear that she had little hope of being a Carlyle wife, but at least she knew why. Vayden referred to the 'taint' of marrying a Muggle-born, but it wasn't simple prejudice. There was also the problem of not knowing the sire of the person. One could unknowingly marry a relative, even a sibling. She'd keep trying for marriage. She didn't think she was related to Vayden, and she wanted the power to change things. There was so much wrong with this world. That Harry had had to escape, for the second time... Vayden had confirmed that he'd had good reason, that the stories of Muggle slaves were factual, not sensationalism. Even if Vayden didn't marry her, he gave her a great deal of information. If, or maybe _when_, he rejected her, she'd try to retain his friendship. She was glad she hadn't let Harry down for a second time.

Lisa Turpin went eagerly to her ancient husband. She'd been so upset when her father had contracted her to him, but she'd been assured that the Marriage Bond would take care of her reluctance. He'd been right, and now she craved contact with him. It was a shame that his healer had decreed that he was only allowed to have the Virility Potion every second day. She felt she needed more sex with her Bonded, at least every day.

Zacharius Parkinson sighed to himself. He had to do his duty but would be glad once she had a son. If only there was a spell to ensure it was a son. He'd have to keep up sexual contact all through the pregnancy as well, in order to keep her healthy. Preferably as long as a year after the birth. By then, maybe she could survive if he stopped. She might even survive if he died. If he failed, the only chance that the family line could continue, would be through young Pansy, but they would no longer be able to boast an unbroken line. They'd been able to boast the direct line for nearly six hundred years.

He wrote a letter as the Parkinson Vanie, reminding Pansy that she was forbidden to marry without his permission. Further, she was to take care to ingratiate herself with the lesser Pure-blood families, especially the Smiths, Weasleys and Turpins. Only a younger son of one of the lesser families might consent to give up his family name to become a Parkinson. If there was one she particularly fancied, she should notify him, and the family solicitors would take it from there.

***chapter end***


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 15: **_

At Traynor Highschool, Friday afternoon meant Sport. The captains of the rival Hockey teams swiftly tapped sticks in the preliminary, then a fast hit was sent Harry's way. He picked it up neatly, displaying his impressive speed of reaction, and was off toward the goal. Jimmy Baxter was a half-back, one of the defenders of the goal. He'd been becoming increasingly aggressive in his play, as the 'Green' team increased their lead. He was 'Brown.' There were four School Houses, unimaginatively named after colours.

Travis Clark was umpiring himself, as he preferred to do when it was the A-grade teams playing. He ran after the play, watching closely. Jimmy had been fouling regularly, he knew, and he still hadn't managed to catch him at it. Harry passed to Pete, who was also fast, and Pete passed it to Colin. Back again, and Peter took a shot at goal.

Jimmy used the distraction to take a vicious swipe at Harry's legs with his hockey stick. Harry leapt over the scything stick, and said, exasperated, "Behind the shelter shed, then, though I really don't know what the issue is!"

"You dirtied the name of a good teacher, for no reason."

"And I was fairly thoroughly punished, if you recall. It's over with."

"Mr. Clark was cleared."

"I'll have Ian and Chris with me. You're not having help."

"You're a coward, Drayton, but it'll be just you and me."

"You can't be trusted, Baxter. I want witnesses. They won't interfere."

Jimmy stared at him, frustrated. He _hated _Ricky. He wasn't even sure quite why, just that everything about him grated. He wanted to bash his face in.

Clark called impatiently, "Stop it, you two. Jimmy, get into position. You too, Ricky. The Greens just scored in case you weren't bothering to watch."

Jimmy said, in a cheerful tone, "Of course I saw, Sir. I'm coming."

Harry took care to avoid Jimmy for the rest of the game, but Jimmy had what he wanted, and there were no further attempts to hurt him. The Browns began to play better, and finally won the game. It made no difference to Jimmy's desire to hurt Ricky.

Sarah joined Harry as he went towards the shower. "I saw Jimmy hit you with his stick."

"He missed, but don't wait for me this afternoon please, Sarah. I'll be late."

"Business with Jimmy?"

"Something like that."

"You shouldn't fight, you know that."

Harry gave her a quick kiss, "Sometimes there's no choice. Unless you want to lie down and be kicked by whoever pleases."

"And I suppose reporting him is out of the question."

"Quite." He grinned at her, "Don't worry. He's not likely to kill me, and I have no intention of killing him."

As he'd said, Harry had Ian and Chris with him when he faced Jimmy. Their school bags were already on the way back to Kreighley on the bus. It was a common arrangement. It wasn't far to walk, about three miles, but the school bags were always heavy. Jimmy hadn't brought anyone with him. A part of him was ashamed of himself for harassing Ricky, and yet he couldn't leave him alone.

Harry asked, "Do you really want to do this, Jimmy?"

For answer, Jimmy charged with a vicious ferocity that took Harry by surprise. But Harry was not only a Kreighley boy, he'd been having lessons. Jimmy didn't have a chance, but it was a long time before he stopped attacking. Harry asked, "Enough?"

Jimmy spat on the ground, wheeled, and stalked away. Harry shook his head, and put an exploring hand to his face. There was a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. Jimmy had landed some good blows, especially at first. He'd have a black eye.

Chris said, "We could stop at the pub if you like, but you and Ian had best have lemonades."

Harry didn't regard it as a serious misdemeanour, but wound up helping Ray build some new shelves in his newly painted utility shed.

He spoke of it to Sarah the next day, "I don't know why he has it in for me so much. Surely it's not still about Clark!"

"It's hard to believe what you said about him."

Harry shrugged, "It's not that uncommon."

"But that he should molest boys!"

"I never accused him of molesting boys, just that he makes it known that he'll pay money if a boy allows him. As far as I know, he's stopped doing it."

After some thought, Sarah asked, "Do you think it's possible Jimmy has a crush on Mr. Clark."

"Jimmy's not some silly schoolgirl!"

"No, but I'm pretty sure he's gay."

Jimmy waylaid Harry again the day after, this time as he was walking home in the dark after a self-defence lesson. He was alone, walking quite fast, when Jimmy confronted him, holding a stick. Harry stopped dead, eyeing the heavy stick. He said softly, "Someone suggested that you don't hate me so much. It's just that you're gay, and don't want to be."

Jimmy said flatly, "I'm not gay."

"It was just an idea. So why do you want to hurt me?"

Jimmy said bitterly, "Because you churn my guts!"

"_Why_, Jimmy?"

Jimmy swung the stick, hard, and Harry ducked, avoiding it. It was another stick that landed on his back, from someone he hadn't even seen. He grunted with pain, flung an arm up to protect his face, and tried to roll away. The stick landed again, this time on his right thigh. He swore, fully expecting a cramp. He was going to have to use magic, and he didn't want to use magic. Jimmy called abruptly, "Stop, Tim! That's enough."

"He's scarcely hurt!"

"He's hurt enough."

Harry lay there, very grateful. He agreed that he was hurt enough. Just two blows, and he knew it was going to be a very long walk home.

Jimmy Baxter left him alone after that, except for the routine glare.

****

There were some changes at the Home. Mark Caruthers was thrilled to be returning home to his Mum, finally out of gaol after eight years. His brother was not as sure. Larry was two years older, and had been more exposed to the contempt of the town when it had been discovered that their mother had been defrauding Council funds. Mark and Larry had shared a room at Kreighley for the past two years, after their aunt had decided she really didn't want to cope with them any longer. Their room was left vacant, depressing, with peeling paint, and battered furniture.

Lionel went to Mr. Davies. "Ray says he needs help painting, and I've been fighting. Can I help him please, Mr. Davies?"

Ross laughed, "You don't have to get into trouble, Lionel. You can just volunteer, you know."

Lionel grinned, "I'd like to volunteer, Sir." So Lionel and Jeremiah, who really had been fighting, spent Saturday painting the room that had been shared by Mark and Larry.

Ross inspected it afterwards, congratulated the boys, and asked Ray what furniture needed replacing. Ray scratched his head, "One of the wardrobes is falling to pieces and scarcely worth the repair, though the desks and chairs can be done up a bit. The beds are fine. I guess it depends on the budget."

Lionel said, "We should have new curtains, Sir. They don't cost much."

"Would you boys like to come into Falmouth with me, and help me choose?"

They were both eager, though Ray cautioned, "Take a tape measure if you're buying a new wardrobe. No good if it won't fit in."

By the time the two new boys arrived, their room was freshly painted, there were new bedspreads that matched the new curtains, and a pair of new wardrobes, though admittedly the cheapest available. Lionel and Jason were enjoying a real sense of achievement.

Ross was pleased as well. His budget was in good shape these days. His boys should not feel as if they didn't deserve nice things. He was sure now that Ricky had a lot to do with the Tom Foundation, but had given up asking. Ricky was a mystery, and he suspected that he was going to remain a mystery.

The new boys were both not long turned seventeen. They both had black hair, but Nicholas's hair was very short, while Vincent's hair was collar length, wavy, and carefully tended. They were of a height, five foot nine, but Nicholas was all wiry muscle and tattoos, while Vincent was merely slim. Nicholas was just out of juvenile detention, while Vincent had been thrown out of home when he announced to his parents that he was gay.

It was June, and Harry was too busy to pay much attention to the new boys. Final exams were commencing, and his marks would decide whether he would be admitted to the Arts degree he wanted. The new boys were also doing exams, but they were both in Lower Sixth, with Malcolm and Ian.

Nicholas was asserting his position in the pecking order, throwing his weight around, and whipping Stephen and Malcolm in fistfights, before taking on Ian, in spite of his size. To everyone's surprise, it was Ian who was soundly beaten. Nicholas knew a lot of very dirty tricks. Five days after his arrival, he noticed Ricky in the library, with text books spread around him. He strutted over, "My name's Nick."

Harry nodded, "I'm Ricky."

"What are you doing?"

"Studying for final exams. I'll have left here in a few months."

Nicholas grunted, and moved away. A bookworm, therefore no-one of importance.

Harry found Vincent on his own later that day, and asked if he was being hassled by anyone in particular. Vincent shrugged, "Some. Chris pointed out that some of the boys had been sexually abused, and I should not joke about it."

"Not a good idea. Especially the younger ones, who might not differentiate. To them, any older male who likes boys might be considered a threat."

Vincent shook his head, smirking, "I'm not of that cut."

"Are you getting on all right with Nick?"

"He calls me a poof now and then, but he's been a friend, even protective. The fight with Steve was after _Steve_ called me a poof. It seems only Nick's allowed to do that."

Harry laughed, but said, "If you're in trouble, and don't want to go to Davies, come to me."

"I will, Ricky. Thank you."

Jimmy Baxter went to the lunch room at school. He noticed Ricky there, surprised that he had black hair again. For some reason it made him boil even more with frustrated anger. It was only when he saw Ricky again, on the opposite side of the room, with Sarah, Amanda and Cathy, that he looked back at the one he'd thought was Ricky. Vincent looked up, studied him, held his eyes, and then smiled. Without thinking twice, Jimmy took his lunch and joined him.

Vincent reached over, and touched his wrist. "My name is Vincent and I'm as bent as a hairpin. Would you like to go out with me?"

The answer was shaky, Jimmy said yes.

Vincent asked, "What's your name?"

Jimmy cleared his throat before answering. He'd never felt like this before. He'd been sexually active for a year or so, but that touch on his wrist… Just a light touch, and he shifted in his seat. Being a man was awfully embarrassing sometimes, but probably no-one was looking.

Sarah noted as they walked out together, and chuckled to Harry, "Told you so."

Harry glanced after them, and grinned, "He might leave me alone now."

Exams finished, and the final year students drew a very deep sigh of relief. They were not quite finished school. Helmer announced that while normal lessons were over, there were to be other lessons, short courses, such as Driving, First Aid, dressmaking, cookery, and a few other handy skills. Each student was expected to do at least three of the short courses, but could do all of them if they wanted. Just put the name on the lists on the big notice board. The Seniors' Formal very soon, and impeccable conduct was expected.

Sarah and Harry conferred, and chose to do driving, cooking and 'life skills,' whatever that was. No more study for a time, and Sarah confided that she, too, had applied for a position at the University of Cornwall, majoring in Sociology. Harry asked, "Falmouth Campus?"

Sarah grinned, "Of course."

****

Fifteen-year-old Ethan Smith was always volatile, and when he exploded at some nasty comments by Nicholas, no-one interfered in the subsequent fight. He was as big as Nicholas, even if not as old, and it was Ethan who started it. The other boys formed a ring, watching closely, most urging on Ethan.

Harry watched as well. He still thought that fighting at the drop of a hat was barbaric, and yet accepted it. It was a part of the Kreighley culture, something he didn't have the ability to change. Nicholas was quickly shown to be the better fighter, and Ethan tried to withdraw. Nicholas didn't let him go, following his retreat, continuing to inflict his stinging blows. Ethan looked like he'd start to cry soon, out of frustration as much as pain. Harry spoke up, finality in his tone, "That's enough, Nick. Let him go."

Nicholas dropped his fists, and turned, grinning. "Ricky Drayton! You know how many times I've heard some dumb ass say, _Ricky says?_ As if you're the boss here or something."

"Mr. Davies is the boss."

Nicholas stalked over to him, circling him, still grinning, "Do you think you're tougher than me? Seems to me you're all a set of namby-pamby cissies here."

Ethan said defiantly, "Ricky's got brains, Nick! You're just all talk and fists."

Nicholas turned on him, "I'll deal with you later. Right now, I'm going to deal with Ricky."

Ray knocked at the door of Ross's office, "It's on, Ricky and Nicholas, usual place."

Adam was there as well, and looked questioningly at Ross, who said, "We'll watch from the Rec. Room window. We'll have a good view, and they won't see us."

Adam was horrified, "You're not going to stop them?"

"I've been expecting it. It's something we can't do anything about. Just cross your fingers that Ricky wins!"

Adam groaned, "You're right. I'm not suited to this. I'm seeking a job in administration."

"You'll do well in administration. It's not a failing, you know. Just that these are tough boys, and you don't have the background."

"What sort of background do you need, do you think?"

It was already on when the three adult observers took up position. They were higher than the boys outside, and had a good view, in spite of the ring of boys surrounding the fighters. Adam murmured, "It makes me think of the dominance fights of animals."

Ross nodded, "It's exactly what it is."

Ray commented, "Ricky was hoping it wouldn't happen until after exams. He said that Nick would probably hurt him."

"At least they're much the same size."

Ray grinned, "Good one, Ricky!" as Nicholas went sprawling.

After twenty minutes, Ray commented critically, "Nick's a _wicked_ fighter. Ricky's speed is the only thing saving him."

Nick landed a nasty punch, and Ricky went to one knee. Adam exclaimed, "We have to stop it! His face is going to be ruined!"

Ray said indignantly, "You've got to be joking! It's the best fight I've seen since Jack and Trevanian went at it."

Ross said mildly, "I prefer Ricky to be their leader than Nicholas."

"He's leaving soon anyway."

"If Nick gets defeated, it'll do him the world of good."

Ray cheered, "Go, Ricky!"

Ross cautioned, "Hush! We can't be seen to condone fighting."

Adam moaned, "I don't know why we do!"

"Because we have no choice. They'd do it anyway."

Ray observed, "Nicholas is losing his temper. Ricky's going to win."

It took nearly another hour, and both fighters were very badly bruised and cut about before Nicholas backed away, spreading his hands in surrender. Harry said, "You're to leave Ethan alone, and keep your vicious tongue to yourself."

Nick wiped blood from a split lip, smearing it further over his face. He nodded, "You can fight."

"Let's get cleaned up. We're late for dinner."

They were both moving painfully when they lined up for dinner, Nicholas immediately behind Ricky. Ross shook his head. Ricky was still leader, it seemed. It didn't make a great deal of sense that his fighting ability rather than his brains kept him in that position.

Most of the senior boys were together, with the exception of Malcolm, who tended to mope around alone now that Larry was gone. Nicholas asked curiously, "You been in Juvy, Ricky?"

Harry shook his head, and Chris said helpfully, "Ricky will never say where he's been. We've given up asking."

"I just thought, - you fight like you have."

Ian said, "I was in Juvy. Lucky not to have been sent back."

"What'd you do?"

Details were exchanged, and then the talk devolved into bastard screws, and bashings after dark. Vincent listened incredulously, and finally said, "But if it's that bad, can't you complain to someone?"

Nicholas snorted, "Who?"

Harry observed quietly, "Mr. Davies would listen, and could probably even do something. But you'd need to be very accurate, no exaggerations or lies, and preferably have some evidence, such as scars, witnesses or journals."

Ian and Nicholas looked at each other, and Ian said, "We'll have a proper talk about it later."

Chris volunteered, "Malcolm's been in Juvy."

"I didn't know that."

"It's why he's terrified of getting into trouble, I think."

Later, in his bed, Vincent watched as Nicholas moved carefully about. It appeared that he had a great number of sore areas. He commented that he'd never seen a fight like that.

Nicholas answered, "You must have been a pampered prince!"

Vincent laughed, "A little. Strange that Dad had no idea."

"Did your Mum?"

"I think seeing me playing with her make-up when I was about six might have made her suspicious. She never goes against Dad though. Dad threw a fit and said that I was never to sit foot inside the door again unless I manage to straighten out."

"Enjoying the head prefect?"

Vincent smiled, "I adore him. He won't have sex, though. Not properly. He says he can get into too much trouble if someone finds out. Only when I'm eighteen."

"Why?"

"Age of consent for homosexual sex is eighteen, and I'm only seventeen. If he does it to me now, and no matter that I'd love it, it'd be statutory rape, and then _he'd_ probably wind up in Juvy."

"Only if you told anyone."

"That's what I said. I've had it before, and it was incredible."

"Well, don't expect it from me. I like girls."

"You should ask someone to the dance then."

"I could, couldn't I?"

Nicholas painfully eased himself into his own bed, and said, "Ricky's a strange one. He can fight, though."

"He's on the run. Not from the police, but from someone else. If anyone shows a picture of him, and asks if you've seen him, you have to say no. If he gets taken again, he might not come back."

"Who told you that?"

"Chris and Ian, then Jason separately. The boss knows, as well."

"The guv?"

"Yes."

"How come no-one told me?"

"I'm telling you now."

Nicholas grumbled, "I might have had a bit of a fight with him, but I wouldn't tell on him!"

Three days later, while Ethan, and especially Harry and Nicholas were still showing some spectacular bruising on their faces and elsewhere, Ross called a meeting of all six senior boys, those who'd been in sixth and seventh years at school.

He started by thanking them for coming. There were a few grins, and Vincent observed, "We thought it was an order."

Ross nodded, smiling, "No harm in observing the niceties, but yes, it was an order."

Malcolm slumped lower in his chair. He was apt to assume anything unusual was trouble.

Ross said, "I want to talk to you about your futures. Some of you already know where you're going. Lionel is to be employed here, and is happy with that, I believe."

Lionel nodded, grinning. Ray and his wife were nice to him. It was almost like having a Mum and Dad.

Ross continued, "Ricky's to go to University, and will be doing a Summer Course meantime."

Nicholas asked doubtfully, "We can go to University?"

"A charity has promised a scholarship to any Kreighley boy who qualifies. In other words, you have to get marks high enough to be granted a place, the same as anyone else. Only to the University of Cornwall, though. If you want something else, we can apply to the charity, I guess."

Ian declared, "I'm going to work as soon as I can get a job. I'm tired of living on charity!"

Nicholas sneered, "We're charity kids, face it! Doesn't mean we shouldn't take what we're given."

Ross hesitated, and finally said, "Ricky? You'll be living on a charity scholarship. What do you think?"

"We may be charity kids, but it's not our fault. The best thing to do if it bothers you is take as much charity as you need to qualify for a high paying job, and then you can pay it back one day."

"Through our taxes?"

"Taxes, volunteer work maybe, refraining from robbing banks and stealing cars. If you manage to get really rich, you could even make donations to a Boys' Home."

Ian made a sceptical noise, but Nicholas said thoughtfully, "I never thought I would have a chance at University. I've never even tried very hard at school."

"You have a year to improve then."

Chris said casually, "I've applied."

Harry turned to him, startled, "You didn't tell me!"

"It's only after I did the exams I thought I might have a chance."

Harry was grinning all over his face, "What course?"

"BA."

"That's marvelous. It'll be great to have a friend there."

"You'll have Sarah."

"Yes, but girls are different."

They spoke about University for a while, and then Ross said, "Some of you might like to get Summer jobs. I have a friend who runs several fishing trawlers out of Falmouth. It's hard work, and you need to be fit, but it pays well. If you don't fancy that, there are farm jobs, especially for the harvest, and if you can make yourself presentable and mind your language, there are temporary Summer jobs in tourism."

Ian said, "Fishing. That'd be good."

Ross asked, "Anyone else?"

Malcolm said, "Just for the Summer? I'd do that."

Chris shook his head, "I've got some part-time work in Traynor. That'll do me."

"What is it, Chris?"

"George Owens. I'll mostly be mowing lawns."

Vincent said airily, "Personally, I don't fancy getting hot and sweaty doing manual work. It's not at all a good look. I think I prefer to be idle this Summer, A levels next year, and a course in Design afterward."

Ross frowned, "Design? What sort of course?"

"It's in Falmouth. Easy."

"Well, that's fine. There's no need to take a Summer job if you don't want to."

Malcolm asked, "Do we have to pay you something out of our pay?"

"Tax will be taken out, of course. Otherwise it's yours."

Two days later, Jason and Ethan approached Ross, and asked if they, too, could go deep-sea fishing. Ross said firmly that they were far too young for that, but if they liked, he'd ask around his friends in Traynor. Maybe mowing lawns, or helping in a shop. They'd come home every night. They looked at each other, and shook their heads. That'd just be boring.

***chapter end***


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 16: **_

It was Summer, exams were over, and Sarah was wonderful. Harry was very happy. Every day, after school, they'd go to the beach, swim if it was warm enough, walk or simply lay about if it wasn't. There was usually a group, often quite large, including Nicholas who was trying to persuade the girls that tattoos were a fashion accessory, and not a sign of criminality, and Vincent, who was apt to embarrass everyone else by being too openly affectionate with Jimmy Baxter.

Harry had stopped worrying too much about being found by wizards. Reports in the newspapers continued to be reassuring. Penalties for Muggle-baiting had been increased, and more wizards had been fined. There was a rash of engagements noted. Parvati Patil to Connor Greaves, Padma Patil to Charlie Greaves, Lavender Brown as second wife to Ludo Bagman, Marietta Edgecombe to Michael Corner. Wizards tended to marry much earlier than Muggles. In Witch Weekly, there was an article on potions to increase fertility, to use in conjunction with the Conception Promoting Spells. There were references to the 'Cerlikh Catastrophe,' but as before, the name of Harry Potter never seemed to come up.

Minerva McGonagall asked Snape, "Have you been approached for marriage yet, Severus?"

"Several times. It seems all you have to be these days is male and presumably fertile. Having a chronic bad temper doesn't seem to be putting them off."

"Your temper is a lot better than it was, and maybe it would improve further if you had a young woman to warm your bed at nights."

"I was married once. Her name was Adeline. But I was a lot nicer person then."

"You've looked out for Harry, as best you could."

"I hope he realises he's not out of danger. There are wizards who take little notice of the Ministry's opinion."

"Yes, but I was talking about a wife for you, Severus. Children. We are just too few."

Snape said with distaste, "I hear the Weasleys are much in demand. They don't have much brains, but they certainly have a record for fertility."

"Did you see Monday's paper? There was a letter suggesting that all wizards found guilty of raping Muggles be routinely castrated, or at the very least, sterilised. It said that it was not only morally wrong, but that every Muggle-born was a danger to our secrecy and therefore our safety."

"It's what the Dark Lord always said. If you have to rape a Muggle woman, either kill her afterwards, or sterilise her first. Muggles are as prolific breeders as rats!"

Minerva said persuasively, "Take a wife, Severus. You'll be happier for it."

"If I do, she might have children, and I _detest_ children."

"Your own are different, or so they tell me."

"Why did you never have children, Minerva?"

"I think I worked the Conception spell every night for the five years I was married. But then he was killed. I never re-married, and it's too late now. I've missed out, but you haven't."

Snape thought about it. Were there _any_ of the graduating girls he found less than intolerably irritating? Maybe an older woman? The End of Year Feast, and he looked around with his characteristic sneer firmly in place. Really, he just didn't like people very much. It would only make some poor female miserable to be married to him. He put the idea out of his head.

****

Nicholas and Vincent looked at themselves in the only two suits that Kreighley had for borrowing. Vincent shook his head. "They fit all right, but they're a bit dated."

"Ian got himself one."

"I don't know where he got it, but it's not hired, and he's got no more money than the rest of us."

"We ask him?" But Ian wouldn't tell them, only that there was a place in Falmouth where you could hire suits. The pair vanished for a night and a day, and when they returned, they each had a new suit. Vincent was appalled at himself. He'd never stolen in his life, - or only an exercise book when he was very small. But he'd needed it! He didn't plan on looking shabby for the school formal!

Ross was upset at them, but he hadn't queried Ricky when he'd turned up with an unexplained new suit, and it didn't seem fair to question the new boys. But he didn't think that Ricky had stolen his. The mystery boy had his own source of funding.

In the end, there were six Kreighley boys at the dance, all respectably suited. Nicholas was with Amanda, who still hadn't left behind her desire to date 'dangerous' boys. Ian, Chris, Stephen and Malcolm were also there, all with dates. Harry was with Sarah.

Vincent wasn't there, and Malcolm was wearing his suit instead. Jimmy had pointed out that there was _no way_ they could be seen dancing together, so he and Vincent had chosen to go to London instead. They planned on spending Saturday evening in _Pretty in Pink_, one of London's best known Gay Bars. Jimmy didn't know whether to be disgusted or excited at the blatant displays, not to mention the sights and sounds when he had to visit the Gents. Vincent had been there before, but only a few times. He was very excited, and when they finally returned to their shared hotel room, he was pressing enough that Jimmy finally did as he wanted, in spite of his nervous uncertainty. He blurted afterward, "Did I hurt you?"

"We'll have to practise. Minimum hurt for me, maximum pleasure for both of us."

Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief, "I like the idea of practising." And after all, it was as Vincent said. He was _nearly_ eighteen. Just ten months to go, and they'd be legal.

****

Harry went to the Chases' place again after school finished, though only for a few days. He felt himself increasingly comfortable there, easy with them both, and enjoying the company of Daniel. The adult Chases didn't raise the issue of adoption again, but Daniel did. It was evening, and he and James were watching a film on TV. Vera and Harry were reading. Harry always enjoyed these times. Not _doing_ anything particular, just relaxing together, a family. Daniel said suddenly, "This is a scary movie. I need a big brother to tell me it's not real." He turned to Harry, "Ricky, will you please be my big brother?"

Harry didn't know what to say, and James took over, "You are being discourteous, Daniel. Ricky knows he's wanted, but we will not pressure, _ever."_

Harry recovered himself, "If you want another son, and a brother, you should consider Jason. He's never had a chance in life. It would mean the world to him."

"He's not available for adoption. His parents are living."

"His father would probably give up rights, if asked, and his mother's probably dead. If not, you could take him as a long-term foster child. You haven't pushed me, and I won't push you, but I think you should consider it."

James said, "Maybe we should."

Vera asked, "Are you still going back tomorrow? You can stay if you want."

"It's Enrolment Day at the Tech. I need to be there for Lionel."

"Is your place in University organised?"

"As long as my marks are OK, and I'm confident they'll be good enough."

"Languages/Arts course, you said."

"Chris, too, if he gets in, and Sarah's doing Sociology. We'll probably share some subjects."

James and Vera lay awake a while, waiting until the house quieted as Ricky and Daniel retired to bed. Vera said quietly, "Jason."

"I would never have considered it before we had those older ones with Ricky that night."

Vera giggled, "You looked delightful, my dear."

James laughed, "I wondered if you might have sneaked a peek."

"From the noise, I thought there might have been murder happening. But it was just six rowdy boys playing."

"You're including me as a rowdy boy?"

Vera kissed him, "You were the most beautiful of them all." They didn't talk again about Jason that night, but the idea was not forgotten.

****

July commenced with day after day of warm temperatures. If the Sylph Virgo spell had been in common use among the Muggle boys and girls of Traynor and Kreighley Beach, there would be several auras changing colour from pink to red, including that of Jason. The girl didn't think much of it though, and it would be a while before he would have another chance. He hoped to do better the next time. Vincent said slow and tender, and never taking more than was given. That he was quite sure it applied to girls even more than it applied to boys. When applied to, Ricky confirmed that quick was not efficient when it came to sex.

The Tech courses didn't start until the second week of the holidays, and there was nothing to stop Harry and a few others going with Malcolm, Ian and Nicholas to Falmouth for the job interviews. They were early, and Ross suggested a wander around the docks while they waited

They passed a fishing net spread out to dry, complete with a few part fishes, and various other detritus. Harry sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. Nicholas thumped him on the arm, and sneered, "Too nice for this, are you?"

"Actually, I think the job'd be great. I don't expect it smells so much out at sea."

Nicholas laughed, "At least you're not as nice as Vince! He has this lovely expression when he's disgusted at something, and he's awfully easily disgusted."

Chris said, "I thought you'd thump him when he said we all need a course in table manners."

Nicholas grinned, "He's a poof. You have to expect that sort of thing!"

"Have you known many poofs then?"

"There was a neighbour. He was the only who was ever nice to me when I was a kid. He'd give me a feed sometimes, but I always had to wash up very thoroughly first. And he gave me clothes sometimes."

Malcolm asked, "You didn't have clothes?"

"Castoffs. They were always too big."

Nicholas was beginning to redden, and Harry said casually, "It's all I was given too, with a clout to say I should be grateful. It's the only thing I ever stole, clothes from a charity bin."

"You couldn't have gone in and asked?"

"I reckoned it'd be my hide if I did."

Chris said, "You don't talk as if you came from a rough neighbourhood."

"It wasn't a rough neighbourhood."

"You've never spoken about when you were little."

"I went to a policeman once. I was about eight. I asked him if grown-ups were allowed to whip boys even when it was an accident. He escorted me home and started to ask questions, but then I don't remember what happened, not for the next three days. I reckon he must have nearly killed me that time. Anyway, maybe it gave him a fright, as it was the last real beating I had."

"Didn't the copper do anything?"

Harry shook his head, "I didn't try again."

Nicholas said, "You can't trust the pigs. Beat you up as soon as look at you."

"Mmmm. There was a TV show that prompted me. It said policemen are friends to children. I thought I'd give it a try. No-one else I knew got knocked around."

"I did."

"Lots of kids get knocked around. I know that now. Then, I thought I was the only one." He laughed, "And they told me that in an orphanage, you get beaten every day, and fed on thin gruel. But the Home's been great. I'll always be grateful."

"Did you just run away then?"

"No. I was someplace different for a while, which I'm _not_ going to tell you about, so you might as well think about looking strong and fit enough to be given a job."

Ross had been listening closely, while trying to be inconspicuous. He was surprised that Ricky had suddenly spoken, after keeping silent so long.

Malcolm said tentatively, "I've never been to a job interview, Mr. Davies."

"His name is Ian Bolitho. His family has been prominent in Falmouth for centuries. He will expect you to be very polite to him."

Malcolm nodded seriously, "Very polite."

"He mostly takes the boys I recommend. And Nicholas, don't get into any fights. It's just not how civilised men relate to each other."

Nicholas asked, "Is that right, Ricky?"

"Adult men who regard themselves as civilised tend to use more subtle weapons than fists."

Ross stared at him, and laughed, "That's cynical!"

Harry shrugged. He guessed he was cynical. In his experience, there was always a pecking order, whether it was enforced with subtle threats, or shouts of _Crucio!_

Ian, Malcolm and Nicholas were hired, and a few days later, Ross drove them to join their boats. They'd be loaned their oilskins and boots, and Ross allotted them an allowance to buy additional working clothes as needed. Ian and Nicholas put on an air of cocky arrogance to cover their very real nervousness, while Malcolm looked a little green. When the others were not close, he asked Ross if they were allowed to return if they didn't like it. Ross said casually, "Of course. But stick with it if you can."

He scarcely heard the next sentence, "How bad do they punish?"

"You might get roared at for doing something stupid, but if anyone raises a hand to you, that would be assault. Assault is a criminal offence. It's most unlikely, but if it happens, come home and tell me, straightaway." Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief, - the boss said it was most unlikely, and he could come home if he wanted. Malcolm had not recovered from the severe abuse he'd received as a child.

Lionel and Harry commenced their courses at the Technical College. For the first few days, Lionel was nervous and unsure, but Harry checked on him whenever possible, and was with him on the bus to and from the Home. Quite suddenly, Lionel became fast friends with one of the girls doing the course, and no longer needed looking after. As for Harry's own course, it seemed a bit too basic for his needs, but he hoped it would improve. In any case, it was only a short course, and they didn't seem to care if he missed days whenever he had something better to do.

****

Severus Snape didn't think he was being watched any more, and Harry really needed to know about this Hearing. He was directly concerned, after all. Three days later, he went stiffly to Professor McGonagall, and told her she'd have to get a new Potions Master. He was leaving the country. Harry would have to look after himself.

Saturday morning, and Harry checked through the newspapers. He nearly missed the notice, tucked in an inconspicuous place next to a large and colourful advertisement for the Weasleys' joke-shop. A Hearing to determine the status of Harry Potter, and the advisability of making him a Ward of the Ministry. All those interested in giving evidence should present themselves at the Ministry at nine in the morning, Tuesday. Harry Potter, of course, was urged to be present. Failure to be present would be taken as consent for the Ministry to make decisions for him.

Harry took a deep breath. There was no way he could risk being present, but he'd thought that Amelia Bones was fair! Every week, there were articles on the seriousness of Muggle-baiting, and there had been more Court appearances and Hearings, sometimes penalties when a wizard was convicted. He'd thought she was fair! In his mind, he saw the young Tom Riddle again, saying that he had to fight. But just who should he fight? Carefully, he checked over the papers again, but there was nothing else of interest.

Bandehm came in politely, bowing low, "Urgent mail for you, Master Harry." Harry turned to him, surprised. It would be the first personal mail he'd received since January.

He opened the one with the magical writing on first. It was brief, _Keep away from the Hearing. Keep away from wizards. Strongly suggest you leave Britain. I can no longer help you. Protector. _Severus then. He assumed he'd been threatened, and had taken the prudent course. Severus Snape may have helped him in the past, but he wouldn't expect him to risk his own safety to do so.

He opened the second letter. Again the writer had taken precautions, though the writing was ordinary, from a quill. Probably Poppy didn't have the skill of magical writing, which disguised handwriting. _Please meet me at the Summer meeting place. Noon today. If you don't make it, I'll be waiting again at nine pm. Same times tomorrow, Monday, Tuesday. I really want to see you. Your flower._

He glanced at the clock, and prepared himself to meet Poppy. The black wig, a long-sleeved shirt, but no Binding Bracelets. Drab Muggle clothing, nothing too bright.

He approached the nurse very carefully. Poppy paced nervously, and turned to him, relieved. She smiled at him, "You look well."

"I am very well."

She took a piece of parchment from her bag, "I'm to go to a Hearing regarding you. I've been told for your own sake, you must attend, though no-one knows I've been in contact with you. Your safety is guaranteed, they tell me. An Auror is to meet you, and bring you to the Meeting Room, since it will be difficult to find it for yourself. He'll protect you."

"Thanks, Poppy. Who told you?"

"Senior Auror Robards. You'll like him. He seems very trustworthy."

"What if I don't attend? What if I don't trust them?"

"Minister Bones can be trusted, Harry. She'll be presiding, plus four appointed members of the Wizemgamot."

"Exactly what is the question?"

"There's a faction that want to say you're a Muggle, but need protection. They want to make you a ward of the Ministry. I thought I'd point out that you're a wizard genetically, and in every respect that counts. And that you're perfectly capable of looking after yourself."

"Thank you, Poppy."

In the distance, there was a faint crack, and then another. Poppy didn't notice it, but Harry did. He said hurriedly, "Someone's coming. Bye, Poppy," and strode away in the opposite direction, disapparating as soon as he was out of Poppy's sight.

Poppy looked after him, regretting the sudden departure. No-one knew she was here, and there was no reason that a wizard would find them. She hoped she'd impressed upon him the necessity of attendance. He had all the details in his hand.

Back at the Manor, Harry studied the information he'd been given, and shook his head. He thought Snape had the right of it. He was far more knowing than Poppy. He would not attend the Hearing, it was obvious that Snape would not be there, and it was quite possible that Poppy would find herself also unable to attend. He needed trustworthy and powerful friends, and he had none. Hermione? He had to root in his old school truck to find her address. He hadn't touched those things since he'd left Hogwarts, and it gave him a strange feeling. It had been such an incredible thrill the day he'd walked in to the school. He was a wizard, and he was going to work magic! He was _surrounded_ by magic! He grinned, remembering the Opening Feast. He'd thought he'd never be hungry again!

His wand was on top, distracting him. He stroked it, and there were golden sparks. But he shook his head, buried it deep under old clothing, and found the needed address. Only when closing the trunk, did he remember his Invisibility Cloak, that could be so useful. He looked again, thoroughly, but there was no Invisibility Cloak. He supposed the Aurors may have confiscated it, even before he'd left Hogwarts. It was a loss. He found the Order of Merlin though, that someone, probably Snape, must have put in. He stared at it, then pushed it right to the bottom. It made him feel a little ill.

His approach to the home of the Grangers was as cautious as when he'd ventured to meet Poppy, but this time he stopped dead as he came to the front fence of the house block. It was warded, but not only that, it was warded specifically against him. He could feel it. To do that, they would have needed some of his blood, but they'd had ample opportunity to collect as much as they'd wanted in January.

He hesitated, and then retreated again. He could have broken the wards, but the breaking of them would alert someone. It was too risky. Probably her mail was screened as well. Hermione was out, and therefore probably the Weasleys. He doubted if the Weasleys could be trusted in any case. Who did he have left? To venture into Hogwarts would be to make himself too vulnerable. Vance McKenzie? McKenzie would already know of his predicament, and would either be trying to help him, or had already turned against him. Probably not that, or his enemies would have come to Kreighley for him.

Sirius Black, then. His godfather. His lip curled. His godfather who'd called him a coward when he'd protested at being handed over to his enemies. But the Blacks had been wealthy, and once they'd been powerful. And Sirius had been desperate to have his name cleared, terrified of being returned to Azkaban, terrified of the Dementors. Maybe he was not so much to blame.

There were no wards on the Black place, except for the routine ones that kept away Muggles. There was no hint of danger.

Looking harmlessly Muggle, and wearing black wig and glasses, Harry knocked. Sirius answered it himself, stared, and then grabbed him in a bear hug. "I knew you'd forgive me one day. Welcome, my dear boy." He put on a crooked smile, "Pup, like I used to call you sometimes."

Harry grinned, "Sirius."

"Come in, come in. Meet my wives."

Sirius had apparently forgotten that Harry was responsible for the death of Narcissa's former husband. Narcissa nodded at him coolly, though Mary greeted him warmly.

Sirius stated, "You'll have afternoon tea with us."

"I would like that, provided no-one calls the Ministry or other enemies." Mary was shocked, "The Ministry's not your enemy!"

"They're going to try and take away my freedom. That seems to me like an enemy."

Sirius said blithely, "You misunderstand. It's just to ensure you have a guardian in the magical world. I've applied, of course." He pulled Harry to him, "I've always wanted you to be my son."

Mary raised her eyebrows at Narcissa, "That would make him our son, as well, Narcissa."

Narcissa nodded, "Then we will not betray your whereabouts, Harry. Please, will you sit down by me. I want to talk to you."

Harry glanced at Sirius, "Please, tell _no-one_ I'm here."

Narcissa added firmly, "No-one, Sirius. Harry is at risk."

Sirius grumbled, "I won't tell anyone. Just the house-elves, so they can make a special feast."

"Tell them as well. That Harry is here is a Family Secret."

Harry looked at her with suspicion. A Family Secret. Was Narcissa planning on keeping him against his will?

Narcissa said, "Please, Harry, join me."

"In a minute, certainly, Mrs. Black. Sirius, just in case I have to run, I want you to know that the Ministry has a record to say that I have satisfactorily completed fifth year. Professor Snape told me that it could not be revoked. Surely that is proof that I should be regarded as a wizard."

Sirius stared at him blankly, "But you _didn't_ complete fifth year."

"I thought the Binding Bracelets were going to kill me. I asked him so I could be buried as a wizard, with my wand in my hand, and he arranged the Record of Completion."

"They didn't kill you."

"No, but the point is, can you tell them at the Hearing? I am a wizard, and an adult. Would they please just let me alone."

"You can't work magic."

"When wizards are old or sick, they lose the ability to work magic. It doesn't make them a different species."

Mary asked, in a falsely casual voice, "Do you have something against Muggles, Harry?"

"No, but if I'm regarded as a wizard, no-one will think they can take me as a slave."

Sirius laughed loudly, "They wouldn't do that!"

Narcissa contradicted him, "For some, it would be blissful revenge. Those who've lost half their families to the Catastrophe, others who like the idea of using someone who's been so famous. And it's not like he's badlooking."

Mary said, "I didn't read what they were saying about slaves. I didn't believe it."

"Believe me, Mary, it is true!"

Harry asked urgently, "Will you _do_ it, please, Sirius? Tell them I'm not a Muggle. Tell them to check the Record of Completion. Tell them just to leave me alone. _Please!"_

Sirius nodded, and said gently, "Of course I will, Harry. But don't you think it would be better if you came yourself and told them?"

"It would be too great a risk. I don't plan on exposing myself."

Narcissa said, "Tell me what I want to know, and the full weight of Malfoy and Black will be behind you."

Harry looked at her warily, "What do you want to know, Mrs. Black?"

"How my husband died."

"I can't tell you much, I'm afraid."

"What exactly happened, in your own experience?"

Harry's face flamed, and he looked away. Narcissa said softly, "We can make you safe, you know. I don't ask for much."

Harry glanced at Mary, who stood, "I'll be in the other room."

Narcissa asked, "Sirius?"

"I want to hear as well."

Harry shrugged, "I suppose everybody knows the important parts. It doesn't matter who hears now. A few days before, I was made ill, in preparation, then made to take a potion that stopped me thinking. My memory is very vague, from the moment I became ill. I remember trying to protest, because I was being sent into battle without even my wand. A little later, it seemed very cold, but then it was all right again. There was pain…"

His face reddened again, "Obviously there would have been some pain, but it didn't seem to matter. Then it was something else, something important being stolen from me. That's when something happened and he was thrown off, dead. I felt awful, and still couldn't really think. There were others in the room, but they were all on the floor, so I took no notice. I left, and just walked until I collapsed. I was taken in and cared for by Muggles. As to how Mr. Malfoy died, I think it's the same as all the others. He died because his Dark Mark was too strong a link to Voldemort. Voldemort died, so they died, or were badly hurt. I didn't kill anyone but Voldemort, and I'm not really sure I killed him. Maybe it was just the magic that somehow backfired. Lots of people say I didn't do anything."

"Do you think you did something?"

Harry said honestly, "I think I stopped it happening, and I think I killed Voldemort."

Narcissa asked softly, "The others in the room?"

Harry thought he'd killed those, as they were a threat, but his memory was very blurry. He said, "They were collapsed, and they wore masks. I didn't even look at them. I don't know who they were."

Narcissa sat back. "My husband was in that room. He was very close to the Dark Lord, his most able lieutenant. Five of them were doing the chant, the Cerlikh Chant. They'd been especially selected, Lucius, the brothers, Robert and Francis Ryan, two others, all tall, blonde, good-looking. They'd been required to undergo some cleaning rituals as well. Yet the ritual was tainted."

"If it had succeeded, Voldemort would have been unstoppable."

"Yes. I am sorry my husband died, but I find it hard to regret the death of a half-mad megalomaniac."

"He and Dumbledore between them, they took away my life. I've only been able to live since I left the wizarding world. I regret losing the power I used to have, but I am not unhappy. I would be desperately miserable forced to live as a slave."

Narcissa rose, regally, "I will ensure you do not live as a slave."

Harry said distrustfully, "But I would prefer to live…"

Narcissa stared at him, and her mouth quirked, "I did not mean I would have you killed."

Harry grinned at her, suddenly light-hearted, optimistic, "Thank you, Mrs. Black."

Narcissa nodded, a queen bestowing a favour. Everything she did was done with exquisite grace, "That is my pleasure, Harry."

Afternoon tea turned into a happy affair. Harry managed to divert all questions about his own living conditions by the simple expedient of encouraging Sirius to speak about his acivities. Sirius was thrilled to have Harry there, and when a house-elf served alcohol, he loudly pressed Harry to join him in a drink. Harry accepted a small one, and so did both Mary and Narcissa. Sirius didn't seem to notice that the levels in their glasses scarcely lowered, while his own was refilled regularly by Krilda.

It was four o'clock when Harry rose to leave. Sirius rose with him, staggered slightly, but gave Harry an exuberant hug, and nearly cried, "So glad you've forgiven me. It nearly killed me when you said you didn't want me."

"I don't remember saying that."

"At Hogwarts, when they gave you your medal."

"I'd forgotten that, as well. I was severely affected by potions then, Sirius. You should not blame me for what I said then."

Sirius sniffled and wiped his eyes, "I don't blame you, my boy. I did a terr'ble thing. I know that now. Yet because of it, I'm free, and with two beaut'ful wives." He lowered his voice, drunkenly, "They're pregnant, you know. Both of them!"

Harry grinned, "Congratulations, Sirius. You'll be a good father, I know."

Sirius nodded solemnly, "Good father."

Narcissa extended a hand then, Harry recognised the cue, took her hand, bent as gracefully as he could, and kissed it. The old Pure-blood families tended to old-fashioned formality. Mary followed Narcissa's example, and Narcissa said, "We will ensure the Hearing goes the way you want it."

"I am very grateful."

Harry returned to Kreighley, feeling as if he'd done all he reasonably could. He'd thought of letters to the Daily Prophet, even an interview. He'd thought of pointing out that he was Harry Potter, Head of the House of Potter, Triwizard Champion, Order of Merlin, First Class, but suspected that asserting his status in that fashion would only make more enemies. He had enough enemies. Far safer if he was as inconspicuous as possible. That Narcissa Malfoy would help him, - that was a surprise. And yet he'd sensed no insincerity from her. He didn't think she was doing it out of altriusm, but was happy just as long as she did it. Maybe for Sirius? He had the sense that it was definitely Narcissa who ran that household.

Narcissa Malfoy was left very thoughtful. When he'd touched her… It had been difficult to hide her jolt of awareness. Hardly any witches could sense magical power, and she thought that no wizards could do so. At least, that was what her mother had told her. He was supposed to have lost his magic, but it was not so. Did he know? He still wore the Binding Bracelets, even after all this time. If he knew, if he'd managed to overcome the Bracelets, then he was a very dangerous man. Harassing Harry Potter could be like poking a dragon in the eye, - a very bad idea. Definitely best if the Hearing concluded that Harry had the status of adult wizard. Let him be forgotten.

She didn't tell Sirius that Harry Potter was, by far, the most powerful wizard she'd ever known, instead putting up with his increasingly drunken rambling.

"I told 'im 'e had no guts. Told 'im he was a coward." He looked up at them, blearily, "He said he couldn' fight. He didn' have his wand. Didn' have his glasses. Couldn' see. I tol' him... I _told_ 'im he promised, but he didn't really."

Narcissa asked, "And then what happened, Sirius?"

"He looked lovely. All in white, and with the glow. There was a silver necklace, with an emerald."

Mary said, quietly, "_The innocent child, shining white…_"

Sirius mumbled, "Innocen' Child."

Narcissa prompted, "He was dressed in white, and someone did the Sylph Virgo spell so he had the aura. Then what, Sirius?"

"Made him take the potion and he stopped struggling. They led him out to be raped." He looked at Narcissa, his eyes shining with tears, "We didn't know it was to go that far. Dumbledore said he was just a decoy, and then there'd be an ambush… He told me he'd never be in danger."

Mary patted his hand, "It worked out for the best in the end."

Sirius shook his head, "Not for Harry."

"No, not for Harry, but we'll do our best for him, won't we?"

****

After the love-making, Harry cuddled up close to Sarah, wanting to sleep with her in the cosy nest in her van. She said, amused, "Ricky, we can't stay here."

"Can't we, just once?"

Sarah laughed, and shook her head.

Harry asked slowly, "Sarah… I really need it, just this once."

"Why?"

"Because…" He sighed, "I have enemies, and they might be getting closer. If they take me, I might never see you again. I love making love with you, but I want more, as well. I want to sleep with you."

"In January, you didn't come back to school, and then when you did, your hair was a different colour, and you always have make-up over that forehead scar."

"I wasn't in a London hospital that month."

Without another word, Sarah lay down again, and snuggled closer. "We'll sleep together."

"Thank you, Sarah. I wish…"

He stopped speaking, and after a pause, Sarah whispered, "Goodnight, Ricky."

Harry slept. He'd experienced too many emotions that day, and was very tired. His elation and certainty that Narcissa Malfoy would help him had scarcely lasted a half hour before he'd started to fret again. It just seemed so unlikely. Surely she was more likely to try and betray him.

***chapter end***


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

**

_**Chapter 17:**_

Sunday was frankly hot. It was roasting in the dining hall where Harry worked, scrubbing tables and chairs. Afterwards, a furious Ross had said he was to wash the walls, and if it took him a week, it was just too bad. The severity was unusual, but Harry had understood his offence the moment he'd turned up in the shared bedroom that morning. Chris had yelled at him, and when he'd said that he'd been home yesterday afternoon, had thumped him, 'Did anyone _see_ you? We thought you were gone again, a whole day and all night!' So Harry scrubbed, occasionally using magic when there was something too stuck on to be removed easily. Except for being wiped over after each meal, the tables hadn't had so much attention for many years.

He was smiling a little. He hadn't intended to worry anyone, though he certainly should have told someone that he hoped to be away overnight. They _worried_ about him. He'd never seen the boss so livid! It must be like having a family, like having parents. Not that he particularly _wanted_ to spend all his spare time scrubbing instead of playing at the beach, but that someone had been so concerned for him. It gave him a good feeling.

An hour later, Mike came in, stared at him, and asked, "Whatever did you do, Ricky? I thought he liked you."

Harry stood up, and wiped his sweating brow, "I was away overnight, and didn't tell anyone."

"Do you have to do underneath all the tables?"

"The tables, chairs, and then the walls."

"All by yourself?"

"I guess, unless anyone else deserves punishment."

It was nearly lunch-time, and Ross went to see how Ricky was doing. He felt a little guilty about the punishment, but he hadn't slept a wink last night, worrying. He was just grateful that he hadn't told the Chases.

He heard the noise a hundred yards away, and walked faster. It was a hilarious scene, mops and buckets much in evidence, a half dozen boys working industriously, but more were experimenting with the skidding capabilities of a very wet floor. Ricky was watching, grinning. Ross prepared to roar at them, but Mike abruptly ended in a tangle of limbs on the floor, and Tim jumped on top of him. Every single boy was sopping wet, and Ross erupted into laughter instead.

A few of the boys cowered back, but Zack Bates said bravely, "We were just helping Ricky, Sir."

Mike added earnestly, "We spilled a little bit of water, but we're mopping it up."

Ross said, amused, "With your trousers, by the look of it. How are we going to eat lunch?"

Harry suggested, "We could eat outside, like a picnic. Take some tables and chairs for the fussy ones, and the rest of us can sit on the grass."

"What about the servery?"

"I hadn't got to that yet."

"Thank goodness for that!" He ordered, "Mop everything dry as best you can, and take some tables and chairs outside, as Ricky suggests. And we won't bother with the walls today. You can have the afternoon free."

"Thank you, Sir."

With most of the older ones away, and Chris still mad at him, Harry stayed with the younger ones that day, and when he came in to dinner, he was with Jason, and Jeremiah and Zack Bates. Mike and Tim also joined them, and Tim said, "Mr. Davies said there would be some smaller kids coming soon, in time for school next year."

"Well, I'll be leaving, and Chris. That leaves two spots."

"He said three brothers, and all the buildings have to have ramps put in, because one's in a wheelchair."

"That's a shame. He won't be able to get to the beach."

Jeremiah hissed, and Harry looked around, and froze. Lord Treadley, a stranger, and _Percy Weasley!_ Ross Davies rose from his seat, looking surprised, and the stranger said confidently, "I was in the district, and thought it a good chance to have a look-in. I'm Ed Linton, y'know, Minister in charge of…." He grinned, "Well, all you lot really, plus a lot of other things."

Lord Treadley said, "Ed's been visiting, and his young friend here is interested in the welfare boys."

Percy stepped forward, "My name is Percival Weasley. I'm very interested in how your young men make a future for yourselves. I'd like to meet a few of your more senior boys, if you don't mind."

Ross managed not to look at Ricky, who had slipped lower in his seat, head down. He said courteously, "I'm sure they'd be pleased to meet you, but nearly all of our seniors are absent making a little money for themselves. The Falmouth Fishing Fleet, you see."

Percy smiled, "We saw them. They were all looking very well." He consulted a list, "Ian Badham, Malcolm Lassiter, and a recent arrival, Nicholas Bailey. So remaining here in the age groups we're interested in, are Lionel Wickham, Chris Vale, Ricky Drayton and Vincent Cunningham. Are they present, Mr. Davies?"

Chris raised a hand, "Vince is out, but we're here, Ricky, me and Li."

"Please, would you join us?"

At the table with Harry, Tim looked at the one he knew as Ricky, who sat rigid, and looked pale in the face. Meantime, Chris and Vincent went to the wizard, and Vincent said casually, "My name's Ricky. But I won't be here much longer."

Chris introduced himself, and Ross said, "Lionel, would you greet Mr. Weasley, please."

Lionel stood up, fumbled his plate, and Percy glanced at him, "Thank you, it's not necessary."

He looked at Vincent, "Ricky Drayton?"

"Yes, Sir."

Percy was frowning, reached forward, and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Vincent smiled suggestively, and Chris said indignantly, "What're you doing, you perv?"

"Sorry. Just that you fit the description of a wanted man. He has a scar on his forehead."

Ross said clearly, "You _said_ you wanted to meet the young men looking to their futures!"

"Of course. Where can I find the other one, Vincent Cunningham? Isn't he a recent arrival?"

"He's been with us about two months."

"What does he look like?"

"Tall, thin, red hair."

Percy nodded, "Thank you." He scanned over the tables at the boys. Mikey covered his face, and Tim whispered something to him. Harry had himself under a 'Don't Notice Me' Charm, but that wouldn't work against someone deliberately scanning faces seated along a table.

Chris said suddenly, roughly, "I know what you are! You're a bloody pimp! You're just looking for pretty boys for use as fuck-toys!"

Percy went beet red, glanced at Linton, who said coldly, "You need to teach your boys some manners, Davies."

Ross shrugged, "I guess my boys don't like being inspected like lumps of meat."

Linton wheeled on his heel and stalked out, followed by the other two, Percy still looking back, wanting to check more thoroughly.

Ross let out a deep breath, and relaxed. Jason whispered, "They're gone, Ricky." Harry did as Mike had, and covered his face. He felt dreadful. He told himself he should not have been terrified. He was a powerful wizard. He could fight with Muggle weapons, and he could fight with magic. But he was not in the habit of thinking of himself as powerful. He felt himself just a kid, and he was very afraid.

Quietly, Ross went to the door, and watched as the large car drove off. He turned to the silent room, "Very well done, all of you. Ricky, will you come to my office, please?"

A half hour later, Ricky was being driven away by James Chase. James said firmly, "I want you to be Ricky Chase. It will be safer for you, and besides, we want you to be our son, and I think you want it as well."

"I'll have the university enrolment changed to Ricky Lee Chase, and call myself by my second name. I'll be Lee Chase there."

James turned to him, the car swerving dangerously, "You'll do it?"

Harry grinned, but his face was still white, "If you're sure. I didn't intend to, but to have a Mum and Dad, even if I am grown up. I'll like that."

James said, with a vast satisfaction, "We'll put it in motion then."

****

__Things moved quickly. Ruth was contacted, discreetly, and after a few phone calls, was able to reassure Ross that there had been enquiries at all the Homes, and even the Foster Homes, up and down the country. Kreighley Beach had not been singled out. And she promised that not only would the adoption be finalised as quickly as possible, it would be kept very quiet. That Ricky Drayton had anything to do with Lee Chase would not be known by many people. Ricky's name was withdrawn from the Tech course, with the explanation that he had left the area.

The boys at Kreighley were assured that Ricky was safe, but that he would not be returning. That it was best if they refrained from talking of him, but that they had done very, very well. If just one had blurted out that Ricky was sitting right there between Jason and Jeremiah, he would have been in considerable danger. Edward Linton and Lord Treadley were told that Ross Davies had been firmly rebuked for his rudeness, and any further infractions would result in his dismissal.

__Harry himself, was still nervous, and started wearing his knife as a routine. He still went for a daily morning run, and every day, he visited the Manor for a short time, to read the papers. There was no word of the findings of the Ministry Hearing, and no mail. Owls could be intercepted, though seldom tracked. He sent no owls and received none. The days went by, Thursday, Friday, a weekend, Monday, Tuesday, another Wednesday, and still there was nothing. He became more and more jittery. On Saturday, he was startled on his morning run, and wheeled on the man, knife ready in hand. The man ran, but luckily didn't notify the police. Probably Bill Conroy would have known instantly who had the knife.

Traynor was not a big place, and a few of the Kreighley boys soon heard that Ricky was not far away. They didn't tell the younger ones, and no outsider was told. Sarah had been notified only that Ricky was away. He didn't make contact. He wanted her, desperately, but not if she might see him led away in chains.

Harry was not thinking clearly. He was a very powerful wizard, and he would not be led away in chains. They might be able to take him, for instance by stunning him from behind, but even then, once revived, he should be able to escape. Even without anything else, he could apparate. He'd apparated through the Hogwarts wards. It was one more reason to hide that he could do magic. It would be far easier to escape if they didn't realise.

At night, when he couldn't sleep, he went over imaginary capture and escape scenarios. If there were just a couple, and no-one knew, maybe he should not only kill them, but vanish the bodies. Then they still might not know. Maybe he should take the opposite tack, make a demonstration of power, so they'd be _afraid_ to try and take him. He thought of marking his own face, so he would not seem so tempting, but decided that his looks were not to blame, that it was mostly because of his former status as the Boy Who Lived, or because he'd initiated the so-called Cerlikh Catastrophe. He didn't see his own looks as exceptional. Vincent was more attractive if you wanted effeminate, Nicholas if you wanted a more masculine look. In any case, scars were too much of an identifier.

Sunday, he decided he'd risk another visit to Sirius and Narcissa, but couldn't get near. There was a patrolling wizard, close enough to his apparation point that he would have heard if his apparation had made the standard crack. He prowled around, using Cloaking Magic, and found two more wizards, one close to the front door, but under an Invisibility Cloak. He appeared a bit blurry, a bit blueish, but clearly there. He retreated, very carefully, reappearing in an area of scrub near a smelly, muddy creek. He'd never seen anyone else there, only once a very dirty dog.

He trudged tiredly back to the Chase home. He didn't go inside, but instead went to a particular private area near the back fence, surrounded by bushes. It was too hard. They were going to come for him. And he was so tired. How long since he'd been able to sleep properly? Harry leaned his back against a tree, and stared at the stormy sky. Tears ran down his face. So tired, and no-one would help him. He was not Tom Riddle. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted to live his life in peace. He closed his eyes, and after a time lay down on the dry grass, curled up, and started to doze.

Dan said, "Aunty Vera, about Ricky…"

Vera sat down beside him, and put an arm around him, "He's frightened because of those men looking for him. But I spoke to Ross Davies again just yesterday. We don't think he's in as much danger as he thinks."

"I heard him in the night."

"So did I. I've stopped going to him. It embarrasses him."

"It might, and maybe he likes it anyway. He's only a couple of years older than me, and I know I like it."

"Being comforted?"

Daniel nodded wisely, "Knowing someone cares. It's very important."

"He seems like a stranger at the moment, but we have faith that he'll open up a little more in time."

"When will the adoption be through?"

"Less than a week, probably."

"Lee Chase, my brother."

Vera smiled, "Our son."

Daniel said hopefully, "I could have two brothers. Ricky's nearly grown up. Is he still going to Uni?"

"We're waiting on results."

Malcolm, Nicholas and Ian turned up at Kreighley, tanned, loud and with a new confidence in themselves. The forecast was for severe storms, and the fishing fleet would not be going out for a few days. Ian announced that he was signing up permanently. He was old enough to leave home, the money was good, and being independent was great. Ross approved. Ian wasn't made to sit in classrooms. Not only was he not an academic, but he was reluctant to accept that the teachers had any authority over him, - not when some of them were half his size. He told him to come back if he needed to, and stated he could have the oilskins on indefinite loan.

Ian offered, "I'll trade them for my suit if you like. I won't have any use for it."

"Good idea. Jason's a big chap. He'll need a suit if he manages to keep his girlfriend."

"Jason's got a girlfriend?"

Ross nodded, "A pretty girl."

"Will you tell me where Ricky is? Is he at the Chases?"

Ross dropped his voice, "He thinks himself in danger. He doesn't want anyone to know."

"He'll want me to know."

"Chris knows. You and Chris could visit if you want. Just make sure no-one else knows. He calls himself Lee now, Lee Chase."

Ian nodded, "Lee."

Vera hesitated when she saw the boys. Chris reminded her, "We're Ricky's friends. We thought we could cheer him up."

Dan said, "He's in the garden, I think. He's got a special place he goes to."

Vera said in surprise, "I didn't know that."

Daniel said frankly, "He's in a blue funk. I don't know what to do with him. Maybe you will."

Ian exclaimed, "_Ricky's_ in a blue funk? I've never known him afraid. He whipped me once, remember, Chris? And I'm twice his size."

Vera said, again surprised, "Ricky can fight?"

"Like a demon. He whipped Nick not so long ago, and Nick had the best teachers."

Chris nodded, "Go to Juvy, and either learn to fight, or be hammered into chicken-shit. Nick beat the best fighters at Kreighley, and then Ricky taught him his place."

Vera felt a little faint, "I never knew that."

Daniel said kindly, "It's not the sort of thing you tell a lady."

"Yes… You'd best go find him."

Daniel indicated, and Ian and Chris followed him. Vera went to find her husband. What had they done? She would never have agreed to take on a violent boy. What if he wound up in gaol? When she thought about it, she scarcely knew him. He was not like Daniel who was easy to know.

Daniel pointed at the curled up form on the ground, and Chris said loudly, "Hey there, sleepy-head!"

In the blink of an eyelid, Harry was up, facing them in a defensive crouch, his knife very ready. The three boys took a quick step back, and Ian said, "Fuckin' hell, Ricky, you'll be in gaol if you do that."

Chris said persuasively, "You just can't carry a knife, Ricky. It's against the law."

Harry had already put away the knife, and said, "Sorry. And my name's Lee, these days."

"Then, _Lee,_ I think you better have a think about yourself. Just like you told me once. It makes for a better life if you refrain from breaking the rules."

Ian added, "Especially ones about knives. That can really get you into trouble."

"I wear a knife in case I need it."

There was a pause, and then Ian said, "There's a storm out at sea. We'll go for a walk to Shipwreck Point. The waves'll be something to see."

Chris said, "Dan, go and play with your Mum or something."

Daniel glanced at Harry, and nodded.

Daniel hesitated when he found James and Vera kissing, and he heard James say reassuringly, "All boys fight. You just didn't know."

"I guess. James, have we done the right thing? There's still time to cancel it."

Daniel protested, "No, Mum! Ricky doesn't fight, only when he needs to."

Vera caught her breath. He'd called her Mum. She turned to him, and said, "I'm sorry, love. James has been explaining. It's just that I didn't really know about boys."

Daniel flushed, realising his inadvertent slip. It felt disloyal to his real Mum. James asked, "Where are they?"

"They're taking him for a walk. They'll sort him out." He hesitated, and added, "They were lords came looking for him. Jason told me. It's fair enough that he's scared." Daniel was glad that his Mum and Dad hadn't seen Ricky, - Lee, - with the knife. He'd never seen anyone look so frankly dangerous. He said earnestly, "He's not dangerous or anything. Just a bit scared right now," and he wondered just exactly when they'd made the transition to become Mum and Dad. Maybe his real Mum and Dad wouldn't mind all that much.

Harry complained, "Slow down. I have to take two steps to your one!"

Ian laughed, and suggested, "Run?"

"I can keep up with you, running."

By the time they reached their destination, they were windswept and panting. Chris pointed, "_Lady Trevanian _went down there, _Kykim_ just to the right of it, and the luxury yacht, _Tendennis,_ a bit further out. Every one of the ones on _Tendennis_ drowned, including two children."

Ian said, "There was a big swell running the very first time we went out. I was on the trawler, _Fortune,_ Nick on _Lady Bay_, and Malcolm on _Candice_, but we were all in sight of each other. I was as sick as a dog at first, but they said I'd get used to it, and I did."

Harry asked, "You had a good time then?"

Ian replied, "It was hard work_, really_ hard work, and there were times I thought I'd never be dry again. We took in a great catch that first time, and when we were paid. I'd never seen so much money!"

They stared out to sea at the crashing waves, and Ian said, "It's not frightening, as you'd think. My skipper's Bill. He's the nephew of the owner, the one the boss knows. Bill says his ancestry is peppered with honours, Admiral, Rear-Admiral, decorations, but also peppered with men and boys who were either drowned at sea, or killed in action. He says to live with the sea, you have to accept that it might take you. Maybe being you, you have to live with the knowledge that you might be found by some pervert who's apparently fixated on you."

Chris said, "Maybe you should think about it. What's the worst that's likely to happen? You get raped, maybe repeatedly. But they can't keep you forever, and then they'll let you go or you get away. You've lived through it before. And besides, there's an awful lot of young men in the world. You're not even living in a Children's Home any more. It's most unlikely they'll find you. You're Lee Chase, not Ricky Drayton, and not your real name, whatever that is."

Ian said, "Be fatalistic. That was the word that Bill used. It means you do what you can to prevent being lost at sea, but accept the possibility. Don't let it ruin your life."

Chris said firmly, "And get rid of the knife. You're far more likely to be gaoled for carrying a knife than you are to get grabbed and raped."

Harry admitted, "I was trying to work out how to get hold of a gun."

Ian said roughly, "And what would you have said to us if we did something so bloody stupid?"

Harry laughed, suddenly light-hearted, "I'll get rid of the knife, and I'll try and be fatalistic."

Ian clapped him on the shoulder, "Good."

Harry asked, "How did Malcolm go?"

Ian said, "You've never seen such a difference in a bloke. He'll show a few now if they try and pick on him."

Harry grinned, "Good. He was too quiet."

Chris said, "Aaron Bates has come back. Remember Aaron? It's turned out that the Cult murdered his Mum, and an older brother. One of the men started talking."

"The so-called marriages were annulled, but he wasn't charged with rape, as he could have been."

"How is he?"

"He's terribly quiet, as if he doesn't know where he fits any more."

"He probably doesn't. Jerry and Zack, are they all right with him?"

Chris said, "They were afraid at first, but me and Nick told them to come to us if he gives them any grief."

By the time Harry slipped into the back door at the Chases, they'd been looking for him. The wind had increased, and it had begun to rain, in slashes of stinging sleet. Harry was whistling as he pulled off his sodden clothes, and when he joined the rest of the family, he was in a better mood than he had been for some time. He'd spoken to Sarah too, who was very pleased to hear from him. She'd begun to think she'd been dumped.

His change in mood was immediately obvious, and Vera observed, "If we'd realised you were just missing your friends, we would have arranged something earlier."

Harry reddened slightly, "It wasn't that, they just talked some sense into me. I'm sorry I've been so down."

James said gently, "You've had reason."

"It was Ian. You know he's a deep-sea fisherman now. He said that he's accepted that if he drowned, he drowned. He told me that was called fatalism, and he said I should do it. Ian, the philosopher. It seemed very odd. And then Chris pointed out that even if I was taken again, I may very likely survive." He added repentantly, "I've inflicted my bad mood on you all. Chris is right. I'll probably survive even if I do get taken again, and I can simply leave home if I want to get lost. You don't need to adopt me."

Vera smiled, "We want to adopt you."

James said, "The question is, do you want to be adopted?"

Harry hesitated before giving a truthful answer. "The prompt was fear of being found, and it's a legal and simple way of changing my name, but that was just the prompt. I respect you both very much, and to be a part of your family," he grinned, with humour, "Even at my advanced age of nearly seventeen, I want it very much indeed."

Vera smiled, and held out her arms. Awkwardly, Harry went to her. He was unfamiliar with motherly affection, and tried not to be stiff as he was hugged, and then given a quick kiss on the cheek. James shook his hand, smiling broadly. Daniel said cheerfully, "I think we should celebrate, maybe by getting thoroughly drunk?"

This earned him a gentle cuff from James, "Not on your life, young man!"

Daniel grinned unrepentantly, "No, Dad. I think I'll just ask my brother to explain the birds and the bees instead. It's what big brothers are for."

James said heartlessly, "Better him than me. I never was any good at Natural History."

Harry asked innocently, "What if I want to know about sex…. Dad?"

It was the sort of joking banter that Harry had seen at the Weasleys, though never at the Dursleys. It filled him with a feeling of profound content. He didn't bother going to the Manor to check the newspapers the next day. Instead, he enjoyed an assignation with Sarah, and explained about the Chases, and that he was now Lee Chase. Sarah didn't turn a hair, only querying whether he knew if there was any real suspicion that those who were after him knew that he'd been Ricky Drayton. "Not that I know of. It just gave me a fright." He looked at her a little timidly, "They know me by a different name, but I think it better I not tell you what it is."

Sarah said thoughtfully, "You think they're very powerful people after you, don't they?"

"The ones who wanted to inspect the senior boys, I knew one. The other was Lord Treadley, and the third was an MP."

Sarah asked, in a soft voice, "Can you tell me anything else?"

"Something bad happened to me. It was nearly three years ago. I decided never to go back to the people I knew, so I called myself by my original birth name, which they didn't know. And I refused to say anything about where I was. They gave up asking after a while."

"Something bad."

Harry stared at the floor, and Sarah said, "You don't have to tell me."

Harry's voice was almost inaudible, "You're the best, Sarah."

Sarah kissed him. She didn't tell him she loved him. He'd stated that he was damaged, that he didn't think he could ever trust enough to love anyone. She would only ask for what he was willing to give. Harry was right. Sarah was the best.

***chapter end***


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

Three days later, Harry visited the Manor, and found a letter on top of the pile of newspapers. It had the insignia of the Exchange Post Office, and was blatantly marked Harry Potter. Harry picked it up with apprehension. There were no charms or spells on it. The Post Office could be relied upon to ensure that letters were only letters, but it meant that someone besides Snape knew that he had a home. The enchantments of secrecy were supposed to make people not remember that.

It was from Sirius. _Dear Harry. I am not sure this will get to you. I feel sure that the Potters must have had some sort of a residence, but it is a blank in my memory. I am inviting you to come to my home for a small birthday celebration, and to celebrate the way the Hearing went. I succeeded, with the help of Narcissa. You are recognised as an adult wizard, and Minister Bones said that anyone threatening you in any way would be very harshly treated. You are safe now, and I want you to be part of our lives, as you should be. Any time in the afternoon. We'll be expecting you. Love, your godfather, Sirius._

Harry read it over again slowly, then picked up the newspapers. The most recent was always on the bottom, and he quickly scanned the front pages of each before coming to today's. The headline was large, _Happy Birthday Harry Potter._ Harry blinked. It seemed good. Until Sirius's letter, he'd honestly forgotten that today was his true birthday. He'd become so thoroughly Ricky Drayton, and now Lee Chase, that Harry Potter, the prophesied child _born as the seventh month dies_, had been all but lost.

He read the newspaper in detail, and then went over the others. It seemed they'd waited for his birthday to make the announcement. He was the 'Boy Who Lived' again, and it was related how Voldemort had been vanquished by the toddler. There was talk of some of his exploits since which had never become public knowledge. Taking on a troll, when he was just eleven, in defence of a young girl. Ron was not mentioned as even present. Professor Quirrell was not mentioned, but someone had told the story of the Baselisk, and how he'd killed it with a sword, again in defence of a young girl. There was a picture of the Triwizard cup, which he'd never actually seen after it had delivered him back to Hogwarts, clutching Cedric's body. With a wry smile, he remembered Dumbledore's pronouncement that 'Eternal Glory' would go to the winner of the Triwizard Tournament. He didn't remember even momentary glory. Not that he cared about the glory, but there was hurt. He'd given his Triwizard winnings to Fred and George Weasley to open their Joke Shop. They'd never even spoken to him after his return to Hogwarts, and had certainly made no attempt to help him. Their joke shop was apparently doing well. Witch Weekly had named them as 'Most Eligible Bachelors,' successful, wealthy, and from a respected Pure-blood family.

Inside there were more pictures, and he saw one of himself with Hermione and Ron, being pelted with snowballs. He and Ron were laughing, Hermione looking annoyed. They looked about thirteen. That would have been taken by Colin Creevey, he guessed. The boy had irritated him so much with his adoration. He, too, had kept away afterward, though he and his brother had visited when he'd been at Hogwarts more recently. Another, and he was shown petting and talking to Hedwig. It looked like he hadn't known anyone was there. He would not have shown his love for the bird in front of other people. There had been good things at Hogwarts, and the pictures chosen showed him happy there.

For the first time, he saw the words of the fatal prophecy in full, _Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall... Victory this year... A sacrifice... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh... When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken... The Child of Light lost and broken..._

Had Dumbledore been shamed? Somehow he doubted that the old man had known a moment's regret. What about Trelawney? Strange that if no-one had heard the prophecy, none of it would have happened. Dumbledore had done what the prophecy suggested, and Harry's 'innocence' had been sacrificed. 'Lost and broken.' Well, he was _not_ lost and broken. Would he go and see Sirius? Maybe very carefully.

There was a declaration on Page 4. It was in large heavy print, and circled with a heavy outline. _To Harry Potter. On behalf of our world, I extend to you an apology for the way you have been treated. You were an innocent child, and you were treated shamefully. Rest assured that it will not happen again. You are a competent, adult, Aniragi citizen, a fact which should never have been questioned. You are named as Protected by all law-abiding Aniragi citizens. Please do not be afraid to show yourself, Harry. You are a part of our world. Amelia Bones, Minister for Magic._

He read it over several times. There were tears on his eyes. The adult male population of wizardry had been decimated, and a part of him thought he'd done something dreadful. It was as if they'd finally forgiven him. And there was the undertaking to keep him safe. Maybe, after all, he could live openly as Harry Potter, marry a witch, and have children who were wizards. They were giving him his old life back if he chose to take it.

It was only morning, and Sirius had said afternoon. They'd be expecting him in the afternoon. Harry dressed himself carefully, black wig, glasses, long-sleeved shirt covering the Binding Bracelets. His knife in its sheath was attached to his belt, and another, smaller one, in an ankle holster. Sirius couldn't really be trusted, and yet if he wanted to be Anirage rather than Muggle… It was only ten in the morning. Harry went to visit the Blacks.

This time there were no watchers waiting, and when the house-elf opened the door, he bowed deep and said, "I will ask Master if he is home."

Harry glanced behind him. He felt very vulnerable at the door, but it wasn't long before Mary was calling, "Quickly, Krilda. If it's Harry, show him in."

Harry entered and bowed formally, "Mrs. Black. I apologise for appearing unexpectedly."

Mary smiled at him, "Call me Mary. Narcissa said that if you showed up at all, it would not be at the time stated."

Narcissa appeared and extended a graceful hand for kissing. She smiled on him, "Happy birthday, Harry. Sirius will be pleased you came."

Mary asked, "Coffee? Cakes?"

"Thank you, a coffee."

There was a little polite conversation, nothing of note, but Harry didn't wait long to ask what he needed to know. "Would you please tell me what happened at the Hearing, Mrs. Black?"

"Call me Narcissa please, Harry. It went much as I expected. They took a few opinions from those who attended, including your friend, Miss Granger. Molly Weasley wanted to be your Guardian, but Benson Zabini said that he was not only a more suitable choice, but the former Minister had chosen him. I had Sirius stand then, who said he was your godfather, and if you needed a Guardian, it should obviously be him. But anyway, you were already declared a wizard, and he produced the Certificate. It was lucky for you we had that. Amelia was the Chairman of the Panel, she studied the Certificate, showed Griselda Marchbanks, who was also on the Panel, and said firmly that there was no reason for you to be declared incompetent. The document was handed to the other three members of the Panel, Dolores Umbridge said it was ridiculous, and Tiberius Ogden just grunted. There were a few objections from the floor, which Amelia over-ruled, and then she said that she declared you Protected of British Anirage. I believe she has exceeded her authority on that one, but no-one objected, though some looked like they wanted to."

"What does it mean, Protected?" But Sirius appeared then, embracing him. Harry's nose twitched. He smelled stale and was unshaven, obviously just up.

Narcissa said firmly, "Sirius, there'll be plenty of time to talk. Go and wash up, and we'll join you at the breakfast table."

Over coffee, Narcissa said, "To be declared 'Protected' does not mean you can't be prosecuted for crimes, but it does mean you'll be awarded every consideration, and the best Defence Spokesman, paid for by the Ministry. It also means that if anyone commits crimes against you, the penalty is automatically doubled. If you're deemed in danger, they could assign Aurors."

Harry shuddered, "I don't want Aurors!"

"If you appear in a wizarding area, you must have extra protection. A knife is quite insufficient."

Sirius arrived back, looking more awake, and smelling quite a lot better. He laughed and chattered, taking credit for giving Harry what he wanted, though saying mournfully, "It would have been nice to have you as my ward again." Harry didn't think he'd ever been Sirius's ward, but said politely and untruthfully, that if he wasn't eighteen and fully adult, he would choose Sirius over anyone else.

Sirius said bitterly, "Bloody Snivellus Snape! Fancy him making himself Demter Guardian. He's abandoned you now, gone to live in Germany."

Narcissa said calmly, "Severus can make a nice living for himself supplying potions for European Anirage."

Harry said curiously, "There are only about ten thousand wizards in the whole of Europe, aren't there, Narcissa?"

"About that. And minimal numbers in the rest of the world. Our total population totals only about seventeen thousand. It is why researchers and healers are endeavouring to improve fertility. I believe it to be a far better idea than having wizards bring Muggles into our world."

"I agree. If Anirage want to survive, it has to be in secret."

Mary said sadly, "I'm Muggle-born. My father refused to keep quiet, and they both wound up being obliviated by the Ministry. So I lost them."

Narcissa extended a hand, "You have a new family now, and soon, a baby, plus mine, which you can share."

Mary smiled and touched a hand to her own body, "I will enjoy that."

Harry was surprised at the warmth between the women. He'd thought that Narcissa Malfoy was a cold woman, but maybe that was just the typical Pure-blood formality. He hadn't seen much of it, but Voldemort had, in spite of his own status as a Half-blood. How he'd managed to pass himself off as a Pure-blood when lines and genealogies were so well-known - Tom Riddle did deserve a lot of credit for gaining the influence he had. Maybe he should examine his memories of that rise to power. He was still apt to push away his memories, but they weren't all of murder and torture, not by a long way. And that myth of having his Death Eaters routinely crawl to him and kiss the bottom of his robes? Well, he thought he remembered Pettigrew doing it once or twice, but then, he was a rat.

Suddenly, the house-elf was bowing before Harry and offering him a large flat box. Harry looked surprised at Sirius before accepting, and Sirius said blithely, "A birthday present of course, Harry. From the House of Black to the House of Potter." Harry accepted it, but refrained from using the formal words that popped into his head. He wasn't supposed to know Pure-blood Etiquette.

Sirius nodded at him, "Open it!"

Mary said quickly, "Not so close to Sirius's breakfast though, Harry."

Harry grinned, and moved back from the table. He opened the box carefully, and then reverently pulled out the set of dress robes. He whispered,_ "Glory!"_

Sirius wore a broad smile as his godson carefully pulled the under-robe free, and examined the dark green garment. Embroidery on the bodice, silver thread, and the design punctuated with glittering stones - emeralds and diamonds? The over-robe was of a deeper tone of green, velvet, with deep sleeves, and a deep collar. More embroidery, and more jewellery.

Narcissa urged, "Put it on, Harry."

Sirius said, "You'll have to take those Muggle clothes off, and remember, traditionally, wizards wear nothing underneath."

Harry picked up the robes and vanished into the next room. Of course he was a wizard! How could he have forgotten the sheer power and beauty of the traditions?

When he reappeared, he looked quite different. He'd untied his hair, (the wig) so that it hung loose in the fashion of a mature wizard. He may not have been tall, but the robes made him impressive. He looked fully and completely Wizard, but underneath, he wore not only underpants, but both knives. The one that had been on his belt, was now in his sleeve. Sirius was silent for a moment, and then said quietly, "It's a shame the Potters lost Vanie status. I can just see you as one of the greats."

Harry asked, surprised, "The Potters were Vanie?"

"They lost it when James married Lily. The Blacks lost it when I was disinherited and my brother died." He grinned, "Dumbledore lost it around sixty years ago, but I never did find out why."

Narcissa said, "He disgraced himself by leaving too many illegitimate Muggle children. Lucius told me."

Mary asked, astonished, "Dumbledore? I thought he was a wonderful man!"

Narcissa said ambiguously, "Many people thought that."

Harry said, "Thank you, Sirius. It must have cost a fortune."

"You should have had it a year ago, when you turned seventeen. It's a part of coming of age celebrations, the first traditional robes. They have the charms, temperature regulation, so you can wear them whether it's hot or cold, and ones to lighten them."

Harry caressed the velvet, "I can see they would be hot and heavy without those. I guess I'd best put them away."

"Leave them on, Harry. I've invited a few friends over. They'll be here any minute."

Harry objected, "Sirius! I have enemies!"

Sirius said indulgently, "Don't you realise, Harry? You're safe now. You can be the Head of the House of Potter, as you should be."

Harry tensed as the doorbell rang. It would be extremely rude to leave now. The Weasleys, Molly and Arthur, even though he would have thought Arthur should have been at work, then quickly following, Ron, Ginny and Bill. They made much of him, though Ron held back for a moment, frowning, and when he shook his hand, he scanned him up and down, "Putting it on a bit, aren't you mate?"

"Sirius gave them to me and insisted I put them on."

Ron laughed mockingly, "Where would you go to wear those now, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and turned away from him. Even now…. He couldn't believe that Ron could be jealous of him now!

Ron said roughly, "Here, I have a present for you."

Harry smiled insincerely, "There was no need for that."

Ron said in a hurt voice, "You're my best friend, or you used to be. I wanted to."

Harry felt guilty, as intended, and accepted the parcel. Ron watched as he opened it, and he wondered if it was spite or merely thoughtlessness as he examined the illustrated book of the past year's Quidditch. He thanked him as if grateful, and Ron nodded carelessly and went to talk to another guest, whom Harry didn't even know.

Ginny then, and she, too, had a gift for him, and kissed him on the cheek with what appeared to be affection. The gift was innocuous, chocolate biscuits in a fancy tin, and his pleasure this time was not feigned. He asked her quietly, "Who's the man Ron's talking to?"

Ginny grinned and dimpled, "One of my suitors. The only trouble is that it's for a second wife, and I want to be an only wife, but Mum and Dad approve of him."

"What's his name?"

"Kosan Brooks. He's the Brooks heir, but his first wife was infertile."

Harry grinned at her, "Are you much in demand, then?"

Ginny giggled, "Not as much as the boys. Fred and George loudly proclaimed that they have no intention of marrying, but Percy, Charlie and Ron spend a lot of time talking to the solicitors about the negotiations. We're Pure-blood, you see, and there's so many Pure-blood families that have lost most of their men."

Harry said critically, "It doesn't say much for their intelligence that they allowed such a tie to Voldemort."

"Well, no-one knew it would do that."

"I guess not."

Molly Weasley said to her husband, "He's not being rude."

Arthur replied, "That last time, I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Molly said uncertainly, "And he was affected by potions. It was the night he nearly died, remember." They'd already said their hellos, but hadn't lingered.

Arthur said, "We should see if Hermione can come."

"He liked Neville too, remember."

"I wonder if Amelia would like to meet him."

"Hasn't she met him?"

"Maybe. I'll tell her anyway."

"Was there anyone else?"

"I'll ask Sirius."

An hour later, Harry looked around feeling more bewildered than gratified. The rooms were crowded. It had been nice seeing Hermione and Neville again, and he'd been interested to meet Madam Bones, who'd been very gracious, but he scarcely knew others who'd arrived. Sirius had apparently forgotten him, and was flirting with someone he thought was called Stacey Hopkirk. He was uneasy, but thought there were too many witnesses for him to be in much danger. He was wondering how he was to get away safely and inconspicuously. Another man then, gushing over his bravery and commending him on his modesty. A small gift was pressed on him. He was beginning to get quite a collection, and he routinely felt for the magic that might mean Portkey. A large black hand took it from him, and Kingsley Shacklebolt said smoothly, "All gifts have to be checked first, by order of Madam Bones."

Harry turned in surprise, and then smiled a genuine welcome, "Kingsley."

Kingsley grinned, "Good to see you, Harry. I'll be at your shoulder, and when you want to leave, I can apparate you to wherever you want to go."

"Thank you, Kingsley." He was fairly sure he could trust Kingsley and was very relieved.

The young man said, "I'd like to visit, Harry. Talk to you some more."

Harry said, "Please forgive me, but did you say your name?"

"Oh, I'm Kenneth. I very much admire you."

Kingsley said, "Kenneth Turpin, isn't it? A reporter?"

Harry said distantly, "I'm sorry, but I never speak to reporters." He'd been fielding questions about where he lived all morning. Without making any definite statements, he'd implied that he hadn't been at any school since Hogwarts, and lived somewhere in Scotland, or at least the North of England.

Turpin said, smiling ruefully, "Oh dear, I've been found out. Keep the gift though. I'd be honoured if you'll use it."

"Thank you. No doubt I will."

Turpin smiled triumphantly, and crossed his fingers that the Auror would not detect that anything written in the diary would be duplicated in Turpin's copy.

There were several flashes of photographs, and Harry said to Kingsley, "That's enough. I'll just let Sirius know I'm leaving."

There was a squeal, and a young woman grabbed Harry and tried to kiss him. There were more flashes of photographs. Harry pushed her away, annoyed and beginning to be afraid. What if she was about to apparate him away? Ron Weasley again, "Being a bit bloody rude aren't you, old mate?"

Harry said coldly, "I don't know her and I don't like her. Please excuse me."

Ron took his arm, roughly, "You'd best be more polite to your betters, _Muggle_. You're helpless here."

Harry suddenly had his knife in his hand, "Liddicombe thought I was helpless, too."

"You bastard!"

Harry said clearly, deliberately, "I am not helpless. If attacked, I will defend myself, even if not by magic."

Narcissa Malfoy quickly appeared, smoothing things over, and house-elves, offering refreshments. Harry asked, "Narcissa, where are my clothes? It's best I leave before something happens."

Narcissa said to a house-elf, "Vaile, please show Master Harry where his clothing is. I will inform Sirius."

Harry was grateful, "Thank you, Narcissa, I wasn't bargaining on this!"

Narcissa looked around distantly, "Neither was I. Sirius gets a little carried away sometimes."

Shortly after, back in casual jeans and light brown, long-sleeved shirt, Harry hesitated. He didn't want to face that throng, whether individuals were apt to gush over him or something more sinister. Kingsley said, "Elf, would you ask your Master here, please? Harry, I think you should take your leave of Sirius and allow him to make your apologies to his guests."

"The gifts?"

Vaile said, "I will bring them here for you, Sir. Some have magic on them."

Sirius arrived as Kingsley methodically checked the gifts. He put aside the diary, "Some enchantment. I suggest you don't use it."

Someone had given him a Quidditch Snitch and Harry shook his head, "A little tactless, don't you think?"

Sirius said tolerantly, "You can still follow the game. You're probably being a bit over-sensitive, like all handicapped people."

Harry said dryly, "I daresay."

A few books, boxes of chocolates and fancy biscuits, and Harry said, "It was very good of them all, especially as they couldn't have had any warning."

Kingsley put a gift aside in a separate small pile, "Four Locator Charms, but nothing more serious."

"Who are they from?" Kingsley checked the cards, "Mr. & Mrs. Weasley, Hermione…"

Harry interrupted, "Hermione? She wouldn't do that to me!"

"Anyone could have put it on her gift and have the key to it."

Harry nodded, "Of course."

"Minerva McGonnagal and Tilda Greengrass."

"I don't know Tilda Greengrass."

"The girl who tried to kiss you. If someone managed an acceptable photograph, it'll probably be in the paper tomorrow."

Harry shook his head, and asked, "Can you take the charms off for me, please, Kingsley?"

Sirius said, "They probably just want to know where you are. You're Protected, but you can't be Protected if no-one knows where you are."

"I'm safer if no-one knows where I am."

"You could tell _me_. Surely you trust your godfather."

"Of course I trust you, Sirius. I've been living in a boarding house in Glasgow. There's no point in telling you the exact address as I'll be moving shortly."

"Let me know your new address then, Harry."

"As soon as I stay longer than a week or two. But you can always reach me through the Exchange Post Office. Just that sometimes I might not get it for a few weeks."

Narcissa knocked, and when Kingsley opened the door, she said, "Harry, more people are arriving. My husband may disagree, but there are some I prefer to keep you right away from. I think it might be prudent for you to leave."

Sirius shrugged, disgruntled, "If you want. You're certainly not like your father. He would have been the life of the party."

"Thank you, Sirius, for a wonderful party. I enjoyed seeing my friends again."

"Are you going to keep in touch? Be a wizard again, as much as you can?"

"I'll keep in touch. Kingsley, is there an apparation point near an Underground Station? Any will do."

Sirius said, "The robes!"

Harry picked up the large box, and said gently, "It's a royal gift, Sirius. I'll take them with me. The other things - can you keep them here, and I'll pick them up another time. Or send them. That would be good. I can't carry them all."

"Vaile will put them in a bag for you, and then miniaturise them."

Harry laughed, "And what will I do with miniature chocolates and books? I have no magic, remember."

"I could come with you and help that way."

Narcissa said sternly, "We have guests, Sirius. We cannot leave now."

Sirius hunched his shoulders sulkily, but didn't say anything further about going with Harry, and incidentally, finding out where he lived.

Harry took a deep breath of relief when he arrived back at his manor home, and put his robes down on a table. He couldn't resist, reopened the box, and caressed the rich velvet, then examined the elaborate embroidery. The jewels would be real, of course. It would be deadly insult to offer fakery. He put them on again, and swished back and forward in front of a mirror. He chuckled as he thought that he even impressed himself. Lightening and Temperature Control Charms, and he felt for them, then swore bitterly. There was also a Locator Charm. Was Sirius checking his position at this very minute? Savagely, he disabled the Charm, and stormed to the office to send a very angry letter.

He wrote his feelings bitterly, but remembered another piece of advice from the young Tom Riddle. Never act in anger. Think coldly, decide carefully, and only then act. Riddle had been an expert politician when he was younger, but the years as a bodiless spirit had damaged him. He did _not_ want Sirius to know he had magic. Even with the best intentions, Sirius would not be capable of keeping it a secret. Probably there was no harm done. The place had very strong wards. A simple Locator Charm would never work. Just in case, he checked himself for charms and spells, but was clean. He didn't think anyone would have risked aiming a wand at him, not in front of witnesses, but it was wise to be sure.

He checked his watch - nearly two o'clock. Both Vera and James were out, but Daniel greeted him with relief. "Where have you been, Lee? I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry, Dan. I got caught up. I haven't even had anything to eat yet."

"Are you doing anything this afternoon?"

Harry grinned, "Sarah and I needed a beach where we're not likely to see anyone we know. Come with us if you like."

"Where to?"

"Shark Cove."

"Ricky, I mean Lee, that's a _Nude Beach!"_

"That's right. Tourists go there, but I don't think locals do."

"I don't know what Auntie Vera would say."

"Sarah hasn't been game to strip off yet, but if you come, I'd expect you to."

Daniel said airily, "Actually, I think Jason wanted me to come over to Kreighley this afternoon."

Harry forgot about Sirius Black and Ron Weasley and all the rest in the simple pleasure of relaxing on the beach with his girlfriend. Neither of them went into the surf. Shark Cove was notorious for dangerous currents, but there was a pool, part natural and part cemented, under water at full high ride, but a safe swim at other times. As anticipated, the only other visitors were middle-aged tourists. Sarah didn't remove her costume, and commented, "There's a big fellow over there, looks like a Swede or something. He has his eye on you."

Harry reached over and said softly, "There's a private place behind the large rock."

Sarah scolded, "There's too many people. And we've got the van for anything like that."

"Mmmm. Just the sun, I think, and being with the one I love…"

"And it makes you randy, does it?"

Harry put a mild rebuke in his voice, "It makes me feel especially _loving!"_

Sarah said heartlessly, "Well, keep your towel over yourself. It's a bit difficult to hide _lovingness_ at a nude beach!"

Harry smiled lazily, "You're wonderful, Sarah, you know that?"

In that moment, his decision formed. He would not go back to the wizarding world, with its dangers, its snide cruelties, and its hypocritical class consciousness. Bloody Ron, calling him a Muggle and saying he was among his _betters! _Sirius, who'd given him a gift fit for a prince, and then put a Locator Charm on it. He was Lee Chase, he'd go to University, be friends with Muggles and have a Muggle family - adoptive parents, a brother, maybe two if they did want Jason, and one day, just maybe, he could explain to Sarah that he couldn't have children, but if they could marry, maybe…

A few days later, the Daily Prophet had a prominent article on the second page, though the basis was just a letter to the editor, from Harry James Potter, in which he thanked the wizarding world for its best wishes, and stated that he'd enjoyed the party hosted by his godfather on his eighteenth birthday, but said that he'd decided it was best if he left Britain for a new life somewhere else. He would not be back, it said.

Vayden Carlyle put it back on the breakfast table, and said to his father, "Hermione told me that there were wizards turning up at that party who'd never met him."

"Mmmm. Benson Zabini still wants him, and he's Vanie. Others, as well."

"Would they really take him, though? Now that the Ministry's declared him Protected?"

"At the last Convocation of Vanie, there was a recommendation that we always take notice of the laws of the Ministry."

"Does that mean Harry's safe then?"

"Not in the slightest. It just means that if Zabini takes him, or anyone else takes him, they'll take care that the Ministry doesn't hear about it."

"Well, I guess if he hides out in America or somewhere for a few years, he'll be too old to tempt them."

"If it was just his looks, that would be right. But the Parkinsons, for instance…. He virtually wiped out their family. What better revenge than to see him in a slave collar?"

"It was years ago that you told me about slave collars. Would you remind me?"

"The traditional slave collar does little else but cause pain as punishment when required, or it can be used for restraint. But there are more sophisticated varieties. With the appropriate spells, you can make the slave devoted to his master, you can inflict terrible pain with a thought, and one variation that McLaggen told me about - you can castrate the boy, yet he will feel sexual pleasure when he gives his Master pleasure. He said it was a great incentive for the boy."

"Does he have slaves?"

"When he was young, I believe. Not any more, and McKenzie's closed down the only slave dealer left in Britain."

"Hermione would throw a fit if she knew how many families think it normal to have slaves."

"So would your mother. Not many married men dare have slaves. I know I wouldn't."

It took a few days for Snape to receive his copy of the Daily Prophet. He was very relieved. The story and pictures of Harry being the centre of attention at a wizard party had very much worried him. But luckily, the boy had chosen to steer clear of the dangers. A shame that Sirius was such an idiot. He doubted that Harry would have chosen to attend such a party. In one of the pictures, Blaise Zabini was shown. If he wasn't there at the instigation of his uncle Benson, he'd missed his bet. Blaise had never been a friend to Harry Potter.

As for himself, if he could have remained as Demter Guardian to Harry, he would have done. But the Vanie had enormous power. If the Vanie made threats, a prudent man listened. And really, he should have left Britain years ago. He was making good money and doing what he enjoyed. Why he'd stayed as a teacher after Voldemort was gone and Dumbledore dead… Just pure inertia maybe. No more teaching, both his masters were dead, and there was a pleasant widow who attracted him. Her face was badly scarred, but she had a power. He'd always been attracted to power.

Two weeks into August, Chris and Ian arrived at the Chases' place. Boisterous, "Hey Lee, got your results yet?"

Harry confirmed that he had, and asked, "Chris?"

"Yeah, I got in. The only thing is, I've changed my mind. I went on a trip with Ian, and there's nothing like it. I'm taking Nick's place on Lady Bay. He says he's going back to school. He wants to be a lawyer. He says that way, he'll make money out of crime, but never pay the price."

Ian asked, "Sarah?"

Harry smiled, "Sarah was never in doubt!"

"Seen any sign of those bastards again?"

"Not a sign. I'm taking your advice. I'm being fatalistic, and not fretting about them."

_**x**_

Every Monday, the Daily Prophet featured a section with the latest prophecies. Some ignored them, some followed them avidly. There was a mixture - charlatans wanting to make a name for themselves, 'prophecies' invented for political purposes, and rarely, a true prophecy. The names of the Seers were always attached, so people had some idea of how much attention to pay to a particular prophecy. 'Granny Abbot' had a reputation. Her prophecy was brief: _Let the dragon sleep undisturbed. Beware the sleeping dragon, lest he awaken, and take vengeance._ As usual, it was sufficiently obscure as to be useless. The prophecy that had resulted in the sacrifice of 'the innocent child,' had been a miracle of clarity next to most.

There was another that same day, Seer Bob McCardle_. Night comes for Anirage. Poke the dragon in the eye, and night comes to us all_. But no-one ever took much notice of Bob. If his name had been Aurora, or Marvolo, or _anything _a little less mundane… But it was only Bob.

The link didn't come until the following week. Luna Lovegood: _He was the Child of Light, but now he sleeps. Beware the sleeping dragon, lest he awaken and bring darkness to us all. _But it was only Luna Lovegood, just a schoolgirl. Some called her Loony…

Lee Chase lay on the beach. Sarah rubbed in some sunscreen, an excuse to touch. He had a beautiful body. She loved just looking at it. She thought he was on the point of sleeping. She grinned to herself and stripped off her swimmers. Some tourists gawked, but Lee was asleep. He'd kick himself when she told him….

The End.

**x**

**_Kreighley Beach_ is the second book in the Sacrifice Trilogy. The final book is called_ Retribution_.**

_**For the reader:**_ If you enjoyed the stories of the Kreighley Beach boys, you will probably enjoy my Penwinnard Stories. Kreighley Beach Home has become Penwinnard Boys' Home, there is no Harry Potter and no magic, but you will recognise a lot of the characters, even when some of the names have been changed.

Just 99c each, published November, 2012.

Search for M. A. McRae, 'Angel No More.' On Smashwords and other online booksellers.


End file.
